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#knives out wallpaper

fictionaltrvlr · 11 months

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KNIVES OUT 🗡️

I need to watch these again, the vibes are just perfection || cutout credits

#knives out #ransom drysdale #benoit blanc #marta cabrera #knives out aesthetic #knives out wallpaper #chris evans #daniel craig #ana de armas #my shuffles #myphotoedittag:)

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iknowwhereyousleepatnight · 6 months

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Top 5 mangas/comics/animes/movies/tv shows/books/stories in general you get the idea

good question. for the sake of things i'm excluding dn because we all know i like that. i'm also doing more than 5 because there are too many to trim down. so in no particular order we have:

avatar the last airbender -- probably the best show in the world. i cannot find any fault in it. the plot is fantastic, the worldbuilding is amazing, the characters are so well developed and their arcs (specifically zuko's redemption arc) are astounding. i could go on for years about why i love atla. i watch it at least once every year and i love it dearly

psych -- this is a detective show that my family and I must've watched at least 30 times by now. that's not even an exaggeration. it is the default thing to watch and i have family members who need noise to focus so it's always playing. literally we can reenact scenes from memory at the drop of a hat. we quote it all the time and since i was exposed to it so young i know for a fact that it shaped my personality. it's why i'm funny

everything by jane austen (but specifically Emma) -- what can i say? i'm a sucker for classic lit and jane austen novels are so humorous and romantic and i like that

the great gatsby -- i could wax poetic about why i love the great gatsby, but instead i shall just say that i love analyzing literature and the great gatsby is just so rich in analysis. it's great if you haven't read it, you should it's only like 40k words

fight club (book) and anything by chuck palahniuk really -- the writing style and the pacing and the strangeness of it all captivates me. i've never watched the fight club movie, but i seriously doubt it could live up to the book. i read it first because i read a dn/fight club crossover fic and was like. these vibes are immaculate i simply must see what's going on with fight club. so i checked it out of the library and finished it in one sitting and then proceeded to check out everything by chuck palahniuk that i could get my hands on. his style is just so iconic and his stories are captivating

howls moving castle by diana wynne jones -- i LOVE this novel (and the whole series, yes there is a series). i first read it a couple years back and honestly it got me through some rough times so it's very nostalgic and soothing to me. i especially love it when you compare the movie (which i will talk about in a second) and the novel. they're surprisingly different and it's really cool how both are awesome. they're also really short btw like one-sitting reads, plus they are children's books so they're very easy to read

anything studio ghibli, especially spirited away, howls moving castle, princess mononoke, and ponyo -- i love studio ghibli films. the animation is spectacular and the vibes are immaculate and they make me want to melt into a puddle but like a happy one. they're just so nice i need to watch them all day every day u know?

full metal alchemist -- it's awesome. both the manga and the show (fmab, i haven't watched the older one). i love the characters and i love the story and i love the art/animation and i love everything about it

so there it is, 7/5 of my favorite stories. It's actually surprising that i chose these because usually my taste is darker but like. those scratch a particular itch and these ones make everything better so idk. maybe i just find happiness in the whimsy of classic literature and soft, pretty stories

for this

#ty for the ask!#ask game #sorry i couldn't like. narrow it down very much but i am not known for my conciseness anyway #i don't really watch a lot of movies or shows but i read a bunch of books so that's something #also some honorable mentions are:#hamlet #knives out & the glass onion #ohshc #the picture of dorian grey #animal farm #the yellow wallpaper #y'know what i'm going to stop myself before i start listing off everything in my bookcase. which is a lot. like a lot a lot #so many that my dresser is also full of books and i have no room to put my clothes #it's just like that sometimes

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roseglazedlens · 5 months

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⦑ THE FUCKING DEAD ⦒ 𝐁𝐨𝐲’𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

➠ series masterlist | ⏪prologue | 🔃girl's route | ⏩resolution |

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓┇𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑┇𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐅𝐈𝐂┇𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 LEON S. KENNEDY X AFAB GN! READER CARLOS OLIVEIRA X AFAB GN! READER synopsis: Leon, Carlos, and you, ventures into the laboratory downstair to investigate the mysterious gas. Something about the place doesn't sit well with you... content: 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈, 𝐃𝐔𝐁𝐂𝐎𝐍, canon-typical violence, zombie fucking, threesome, love triangle, positions (doggy, cowgirl, eiffel tower), double penetration (one hole), oral (m receiving), throatpie (extreme), creampies (extreme), grinding (a lot), face-fucking, swallowing, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, gaping, frotting, masturbation (reader), use of restraints (handcuffs), impregnation kink, degradation kink, corruption kink, breeding, cum inflation, womb fucking, body indentation, fingering, zombie transformation, body worship, body horror, cumdump, mutual(?) pining. mentions of: sexual experiments, medical syringes, disagreements, fist fights, wounds (graphic), blood (a lot), firearms, knives, & death. a/n: thank you all of you sweethearts for waiting on & supporting this series, it means so deeply to me, really. my recommended order is to read girl's route before this to build tension, but it is optional (though appreciated). lots of plot in this installment, enjoy!!! « 12.2 k words | general masterlist | ao3 | reblogs appreciated! »

Your objective today—retrieve the concentrated sample from Arias’ mansion and escape.

And so far, things have been smooth sailing. A bit too smooth sailing. In the span of three hours with you and your team in this freakish mansion, not an enemy appears in your sight. Nothing formidable or sentient anyway, just stray zombies along your path that you silently eliminate without mercy and afterthought. This is nothing to you—after all, you have survived countless zombie outbreaks prior to this, and that had ingrained you with reflexes and level-headedness to combat any feat.

Thoughts about the saferoom, again, drifts into the back of your mind. You recall a constant hiss whispering from the vents, and a brooding gas before dispersing into thin air—seemingly left the five of you unscathed. You have suspicions that this may be an ambush, but of what kind?

It never hurts being too careful in this line of work, especially with bioweapons. One wrong move, and it’s game over. No re-dos or second chances. Despite your reluctance to split up into two teams, you agree to join Leon and Carlos to seek the laboratory downstairs—which Rebecca suspects to be the source of the gas—and find the cause of this unexplained mystery.

There are no lamps in the hallway leading to laboratory, only the full moon illuminating the silent, cramped corridor. You smell death on the floors, the mould deafening your nose with a hint of what smells like rot in all four corners. The walls are lined with formal sitting down portraitures of Arias, Arias’ father, and his father before, dating back to the first Arias in the 1800s. Then, the paintings repeat, over and over down this bottomless stretch of wallpaper.

“How’re you holding up?” Leon approaches you from your side, a palm resting on his forehead and on yours to check your temperature.

Ever since you contracted a slight cough, Leon checks on your condition regularly, perhaps more doting than his other teammates. His excuse: “Just making sure my team is safe”. And it makes sense—Leon is a natural protector after all, especially among his friends. He verifies your temperature, normal. Then your pulse, normal enough, perhaps a tad faster than usual.

“For the third time today, I’m good. Eyes forward, Leon.” You roll your eyes to the side, gesturing at the direction in front of him with your Blacktail pistol.

“Just checking in.” Leon lets out a harmless grin, unphased by your cold reaction. His free hand brings itself onto the crown of your head, almost instinctually, threading through strands with slow, loving movements. The ruffling gets your attention, but this time, you don’t dust his hand off your head like you normally would.

He notices this. “Something’s on your mind. What is it?”

“It’s nothing.” You remove his hand from your head, fixing your hair to keep your hands busy in the lie.

“That doesn’t sound like nothing.”

Leon sees through you anyway, like always. He leans in now, close enough that you can feel his breath against the tip of your nose. You peek up, the cerulean in his gaze peeled onto every twitch of your reaction, swimming in the sight of you. A little self-conscious, you clear your throat lightly, but audible enough for Leon to notice how close he is. He backs away in arduous embarrassment.

You change the topic quickly before things turn more awkward from here. “Just thinking about Jill and Ada, that’s all.” And that is the truth, to some degree. Ever since the girls ventured upstairs to Arias’ office, you can’t stop thinking about them.

“Oh, they’ll be fine. I may not trust Ada, but I gave Jill my word.” Leon nods. “I’ve worked with them both—I know they got this.”

Leon does his best to reassure you, and as much as you appreciate the gesture, some part of you can’t shake away this weighted feeling within. There is no reason to doubt their abilities; as they have proven to be beyond competent with their jobs. The five of you have been selected for this mission, for this very reason.

“Yeah.” You agree, albeit a bit forced. “You’re right.”

“That’s the spirit.” Leon’s features relax, chest puffed up slightly in confidence that he can comfort you. His hand comes up to meet you on the cheek, lightly pressing your cheeks together. “Getting so worked up for your friends. It’s really cute when you do that.”

“Yeah sure. You say that with just anything about me.” Leon had called you cute so many times, the word starts to sound like sarcasm.

“Well that’s because I-”

A bare tint of redness creeps onto Leon’s face, barely visible when shaded behind the moonlight. Leon stumbles on the words to explain himself, but before he can tell you them, a hand comes down to press hard on one of his shoulders. Leon breaks his train of thought when he almost falls into his unbalanced leg.

“What about me, pretty boy? Any compliments for me?” Leon turns to find Carlos and his signature smirk. He mutters something underneath his breath, a curse of some sort, and he brushes the hand off his shoulder.

“Haven’t found a thing to compliment you on.” Is Leon’s only snarky response. When it’s not about you, he always finds a comeback effortlessly.

“Oh come on, y’know I’m just joking.” Carlos laughs, slapping a few times against Leon’s back, playful yet hard. “Besides, we know you’re the cute one here, Leon.”

“I’m not cute. And don’t call me pretty boy.” For how often Leon uses the word ‘cute’ on you, he sure hates to be called that.

“You don’t have to get worked up by a nickname, pretty boy. It’s a compliment.”

Leon locks his eyes on Carlos in his razor-sharp gaze, but for some reason, Carlos is relaxed, unthreatened by Leon’s cautions. Until Leon breaks eye contact first in bitter acceptance. “I’d rather not be called that, thanks.”

“Are you sulking? If you want a hug you can just say so, little man.” Carlos brings his arm around Leon’s shoulder, which Carlos knows he despises. Their height and size difference is distinct, and Carlos immediately overpowers Leon in his domineering grip, suffocating Leon just a tiny bit.

“Whatever.” Leon is only able to struggle free when Carlos loosens his grip. Carlos smiles widely while Leon scowls harder.

Things between the two of them had always been unpleasant. With Carlos’ playful dominance and Leon’s stubborn seriousness, their first meeting in Raccoon City immediately hits it off the wrong way. Around you, the duo tries to be cordial to each other, sweeping their disputes under the rug, but it’s no secret to you—resentment always bubbles through.

You toss a stern expression between the two of them, so they surrender from each other’s throats and continue forward in deafening silence, until the three of you finally arrive at the laboratory door. There is a sign: [AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY]. The door is slightly ajar. On the other side of the door, it’s dark.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Carlos walks in first without hesitation. You and Leon follow behind him.

The room reeks of antiseptics, sterilization and behind all of that, the familiar artificial smell that jabs painfully into your nose. You bear with it, letting your flashlight aim forward. A faint blue light glows from a corner of the lab—some sort of lit-up computer screen. The three of you move closer to the light source.

“I’ll go around and find a light switch.” Leon says, and you see the illuminating circle of his flashlight move away from the two of you as it rustles into a different direction.

“Ah shit. My batteries’ flat.” Carlos taps at his dimming flashlight, and it turns off completely. You stand in the darkness, alone, and then you hear a creak. Probably from an appliance somewhere or a trick of wind. But in the shadows, your uneasiness doubles.

“Carlos. Are you there?” No reply.

There’s a brush of air behind you. You convince yourself it’s yet another trick of wind. But this wind, it comes right up on your shoulder, unusually soft and unsuspecting. Then, you feel a presence right beside your ear, tickling your cheeks with its luscious tendrils.

“Boo.”

The sound is no louder than a whisper, but the squeal that flees your lips is bloodcurdling nonetheless. You twist your hips with your entire body weight, swinging the Blacktail in the air out of reflex with the force of your entire elbow. Your other hand readies itself on the hilt of your knife, preparing to unsheathe and attack the figure as another line of protection in case it decides to strike again.

Your gun whiffs in the air, thankfully, missing your target. “Porra! Watch where you swing that.” The darkened figure says.

The fluorescent lights hum into life now as Leon clicks the power switch against the wall. You see Carlos ducking his head behind you. One second too late and you may have wiped the smug grin off his face with the blunt of your pistol—for better or worse. Carlos’ hands fall to his knees, suppressing a deep laugh that rises from his chest.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Carlos! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Your let your relieved hands drop from the hilt onto your sides.

“Your heart raced for me, didn’t it?”

“This is lame. Even for you.” You roll your eyes so far back to avoid making contact with his victorious smirk.

“Don’t you mean ‘charming’?”

He brings himself closer, lifting your chin up with his thumb and index fingers so your eyes are forced to meet with his. The audacity of it all makes your grimace crack into an unwilling grin, corner of your lips upturning with a will of its own. “You wish, Carlos.”

“Hell yeah, made you smile.”

You force yourself to grimace again. “Keep your mouth shut, or I’m gonna hit you for real this time.”

“Well, d’you feel better now?”

Carlos relaxes into your gaze, eyelids drooping and hazel irises dilating. Despite almost being scared out of your wits mere seconds ago, your nerves are now easing, heartbeat regulating into a constant pattern. You are grateful to have Carlos as your companion. He can warm up a room in a heartbeat, always finding ways to make everyone comfortable. And to you, that’s no exception.

“Thanks.” Carlos grins, cockier than usual, so you correct yourself. “Though your methods are terrible.”

What you didn’t notice is Leon already stalking towards the two of you, awfully curious what kind of exchange you two are having that requires such loving glances. Leon’s eyes set himself on top of Carlos first, arm reaching around your waist to pull you closer to him without speaking a single word.

“Having a good talk?” Leon doesn’t break eye contact with Carlos when he closes his fingers around your waist, catching you off guard.

“Uh ha- hey, Leon.” You feel Leon’s grip tighten, and something is telling you not to irritate him any further. Unfortunately, Carlos does not share the same sentiment.

“Take it easy, pretty boy. You upset?” Carlos lets out a chuckle, whether his intentions are to provoke or to jest, you aren’t quite sure.

“No—not at all.” But Leon’s word contradicts his actions, seemingly moving you ever so slightly away from Carlos. Leon cocks up his head, puffing out his chest to channel his larger frame, even if it only make him just a few inches shy to match Carlos in height.

“Just a bit of harmless fun, that’s all.” Carlos shrugs his shoulders, casting a wink to your direction. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“That’s enough, dickhead.” With eyes burning with a fury, Leon tugs at Carlos’ neckline, forcing him to look eye to eye. But Carlos feels no intimidation. In fact, his stance is open, slapping himself on the chest a few times to taunt his anger.

And that’s all it takes for Leon to throw the first punch. He aims his swing directly at Carlos’ face, too sudden, that neither you nor Carlos is expecting it. Carlos manages to bring his arm forward just in time to block it, taking the impact of the blow on the sides of his forearms. Carlos merely smiles in amusement like it didn’t hurt, but the spot already starts to redden.

After the first hit lands, Leon raises his fist again, unsatisfied. You quickly put yourself in between the two, stopping the fight before more injuries occur. “Enough!”

Leon pauses, of course, he would kill himself first before he hurts you in any shape or form. His fist hovers in the air, and it lowers, slow and reluctant.

The boys’ earpiece fizzles into life, and Rebecca is immediate to comment about the duo.

“What’s going on between you two? Do I need to have a word with Jill?” Rebecca lectures in her teacher voice, so loud that you can hear it through their earpieces. Nobody messes with Jill. She can, and will, teach them a lesson in less than savoury means. Leon releases Carlos by the collar, casting him aside that manages to falter Carlos’ footsteps.

“Anything but that.” Leon smooths his own shirt as he pleads for his innocence.

“You’re taking this too far, Rebecca. We don’t have to resort to violence.” Carlos too, the first real fear of the night flashes between his eyes.

“Good. Promise to behave.” Rebecca says. “Such big babies, I swear to god.”

“Speaking of Jill, haven’t heard from Jill and Ada in a minute.” She thinks out loud, before closing with a final remark. “I’ll get in contact with them. Good luck, three of you. Don’t cause trouble.”

The line closes, and with the lights turned on now, the three of you start to explore the laboratory. This time, nobody messes around after heeding Rebecca’s warning, focusing on the task at hand.

The big lamp flickers, ticking like some sort of timer, as the three of you enter the space. It looks weirdly futuristic, floors polished so clean that it reflects everything above, making you see double. Lined against the walls, you find workstations, refrigerators, and foreign machines (a dispenser perhaps?) that doesn’t quite make sense to you. In the centre, illuminated by a ring of fluorescent lights, displays a gas tank triple the size of you, like a strange kind of monument.

A gas funnels out the top shaft, hoisting the substance into the vents up above, presumably, to the safe room where the five of you were. As you approach the control panel, the synthetic, nasty smell overwhelms you so much you have to clutch your nose. You press the red square button. The tank stops rumbling, and no more gas runs out from the other end.

“This must be how they did it.” Leon comments, pacing around the cylinder to read the labels on it, but the ink had been melted into illegibility. “I can’t read any of the labels.”

“So you were right, pretty boy. It’s an ambush.” Carlos says. They had known that the five of you are coming. But for how long?

You think this through. If this is an ambush, why had there been no attack? There must be a reason the three of you are standing on your feet right now, and not becoming zombie fodder in Arias’ schemes. “Nothing about this makes sense.”

Leon nods in agreement, but there is still more in this room they haven’t investigated yet. He walks into the direction of the monitor screen. “Maybe we can find more info here.” The two of you follow.

A team works here, or at least used to, with how loose paper scatters across the floor and the aftermath of test tubes fallen into thousands of pieces, ruining the surface of the station with corrosive liquid. Whoever worked here had to evacuate, fast. And it didn’t seem that long ago either.

Leon clicks with the mouse a few times, and it boots up, flickering into life. He enters the first profile, and to no one’s surprise, he reads: “It’s password protected.” You tsk out loud, bumping your fist on the desk with slight frustration. “Please scan employee card for access.” The scanner pad lights up.

“Where are we gonna find an access card?” Leon asks.

Carlos looks around the laboratory, and behind the tank, he sees a double glass window looking into a separate, contained room—an interrogation room of some sort. A labcoat figure lies in the centre of that room, and in front of her chest, a lanyard prints a single word in bold: STAFF. Bloodstains surround the figure; the woman lays limps on the medical bed. Maybe even dead.

“Score.” You and Leon turn around and join Carlos in front of the glass window.

“I don’t like this at all.” You say, can’t help but notice the blood looks fresh.

“Sounds like someone’s scared.” Carlos is quick to pick on you, entertained by how your grip is putting pressure onto your Blacktail, shaking ever so slightly.

“Ha. You wish.” You quickly straighten yourself up. “Bold of you to think you can scare me twice.”

“Oh don’t worry. I won’t resort to cheap tricks like that. But if you’re scared, you can always jump into my arms.” Carlos jokes, but you know enough to tell there is always a bit of truth behind his playful demeanour. You roll your eyes in response, determined to not give him a reaction that will set you up for more teasing.

“That’s enough, Carlos.” Leon brings his hand down right between the two of you, a little furrowed eyebrow hangs on his face. “You’re going too far.”

“Unless you want to take one for the team, pretty boy?” Carlos’ eyes land on Leon, and there it is again, the spark of hatred. It quickly dissolves as they slowly recall Rebecca’s threat.

“We shouldn’t separate. Let’s go in together. That guarantees our best chance of survival.” Leon, of course, comes up with the most logical answer. But Carlos is anything but logical right now. He wants to see Leon tremble in fear.

“C’mon pretty boy. You afraid?”

Leon hesitates for a second; his pride not allowing him to refuse the challenge. Especially not to a guy like Carlos. There is something in Leon that wants to prove himself in front of you. “Fine. Just no funny business, Oliveira.”

“Oh, you flatter me.” Carlos holds the door open for Leon, mocking a condescending bow just to add fuel to the fire. Leon hesitates one more time before moving. He thinks to himself: in spite of their disagreements, Carlos is not the type to sabotage the team. Still, that isn’t his main concern. Leon is more worried about what Carlos will do to you without him there.

“Aww, miss me already?” Carlos provokes.

Against his better judgement, Leon steps in the room with resolution. The heavy door closes behind him. A faint click of metal hinges come together resonate from the other side. There is a tiny exposed window at the door for Leon to see through. He mouths and gestures the word from the soundproof room: “I’ll be watching you.”

Carlos smiles. “Watch me as much as you want.”

LEON

The interrogation room is bright, clinically so. The walls are tiled with white, and there is nothing else in the room but the medical bed in the centre. It certainly doesn’t look like a room used for interrogations, but more of an experiment chamber, for isolation and observation by researchers from the other side of the screen. Just being in the room sends a shiver up Leon’s spine.

The lone researcher on the bed starts to growl, waking from its slumber, and rushes forward to attack Leon with its twisted, crushed fingers. Leon draws his CQBR assault rifle and takes out the zombie’s head. It collapses onto the floor harshly as Leon swaps out his magazine.

“H-Help…” The researcher groans, before her head plops onto the cold, bleached tiles.

A moment of weakness overcomes Leon as the zombie speaks. He momentarily forgets that he is fighting a zombie; did he just shoot a human? But it definitely looked like a zombie—lifeless skin and erratic movement—there’s no doubt about it. Yet at the zombie’s death, it speaks like a human uttering their final breath. And were those tears running down his cheeks? Leon had never seen a zombie like this.

He checks the body one more time to make sure it’s dead. There is no movement. He rolls the body to face the ceiling, so the lanyard can be easily removed around her neck. Upon close inspection, that is when Leon realises the body is stark naked underneath the lab coat. What kind of experiments is Arias doing here?

There isn’t any time to waste or to contemplate about the dead. Leon looks away from the body out of respect, covering it up. When he circles the lanyard over her head, something falls on the floor behind her. A gentle thump with something shaking inside. The lady was holding a square case, guarding it with her life. There is a report taped onto the top of the case. Picking it up, Leon reads it:

CATHY WHITE DECEASED Female, Caucasian Success Rate: 48% The latent virus had been injected into the subject prior before moving to Phase 2. The subject’s vitals are normal throughout. On Day 3, prototype [__] (the word is smudged with blood) was released, upon inhaling the smoke, the subject started to show signs of zombie infection. Symptoms include: high pain tolerance, cravings for human flesh, heightened sexual arousals, violent outbreaks, enhanced speed and physical strength. During the transformation, the subject’s breath oozes with pheromones to attract their prey. Handle them with caution. The subject also remained sentient, and when interrogated with their memories, was able to successfully recall events dating back to the subject’s childhood. That makes it possible for them to disguise among other humans. In the final phase, subject is successfully impregnated, however, both the baby and mother died during childbirth. With further investigation, we can refine the virus so the infant may survive. The subject's teeth discharges traces of their blood, using their teeth as a weapon to transmit the virus into a new host. We have provided a cure in this case, to use for emergencies only.

Parts of this document feel very familiar to your current situation. So this zombie—no, this researcher—she’s still conscious? Leon clenches his fist together, heavy guilt coursing through his body for killing a civilian. Yes, even if it was for self-defence, it still guilts at his chest regardless.

Now with overwhelming urgency, Leon needs to find this cure fast. He needs to show you and Carlos this document and watch for all these symptoms.

Leon flips to the next sheet, containing rows and rows of scientific jargon and exact numbers and results to this experimentation. None of this comprehensible to Leon, but perhaps it may be useful for Rebecca. He opens the case underneath it. There is one medical syringe inside. It has a clear substance with a metallic shimmer. There should be another syringe inside, but it’s missing.

So this is the cure? If Leon sends all these data back to Rebecca, she may be able to use this for her research. As Leon thinks about Rebecca, his earpiece lights up, speaking of the devil, and Leon answers the call immediately.

“Rebecca! I found some info on the virus.” Leon says as he pockets the access card, case, and report all into his gear. “There’s some other interesting stuff in here too. I’ll send them over ASAP.”

“We need to talk, Leon.” Rebecca tries to keep her voice calm, but it’s apparent that she had been running around her lab. “Something bad has happened.”

“What’s going on?”

“Jill… Ada… I can’t reach them… I think they’ve turned.”

“Turned? Turned when?”

“I’m not sure.” Urgency floods at her words as she types something hastily in the background. “I think they are. The last thing I heard was something grumbling in the background, like a zombie. Then silence. I can’t reach them anymore.”

“Shit.” Horror sinks into Leon’s face, panic settling into adrenaline. Leon thought he had more time before someone got into danger.

“This is a much aggressive virus, Leon. All of you, get out of there, now.” Rebecca makes another call in the background simultaneously. “I’m sending back-up. Hold on tight.”

“I think I know what caused this. The gas is an ambush. I saw it in the lab report. But how?” Leon thinks with his fingers between his chin.

“Before I lost signal, there was a message. The word ‘water’. Not sure what that means.”

Water. What can this mean? Some kind of water source—A river? Rain? And after a short moment of reasoning, something clicks in Leon’s head. It makes sense now. He knows how Arias had been ambushing them right from the very beginning.

“The water. Of course.” All the evidence is connecting inside Leon’s brain.

“What’s making sense, Leon?” Rebecca almost cries out to snap Leon out of his ‘aha’ moment.

“There’s more than one virus. You have to be infected twice to turn.” Leon reads the report once more, clarifying all the details in his head.

“So you’re talking about some sort of water supply working in conjunction with the gas?” Rebecca asks.

“Yes. If my guess is right.”

“Are you saying Jill and Ada drank the water supply…?”

“Not just Jill.”

Leon spins his head with utmost urgency, hoping that he is wrong. There are only two people who have drank from the water bottles in the safe room, and one of them is presumed dead. Darting across the tiny window through the door, Leon catches something in the corner of his peripheral. The tall muscular figure leaning down; both of his hands cupping your cheek, and Carlos’ lips right on top of yours.

It’s too late.

CARLOS & YOU

Carlos closes the big metal door shut, his hand swiftly going around the lock to secure it in place. That’ll teach Leon a lesson. Don’t worry, he’ll let Leon out when the time comes. But won’t it be so funny to see him struggle the door open? Carlos chuckles devilishly under his breath, and he turns to find you leaning against the tank, watching Leon take down the researcher on the other side.

Even when it’s just the two of you, your eyes somehow always finds its way to Leon. Carlos joins your side, trying not to feel defeated so soon. The two of you stand in silence for a moment, before you abruptly break it:

“You can be a bit nicer to Leon, you know.” You cross your arms as you speak, eyes catching on the clock above the glass that leaps to your attention. The antique décor stands out decadently amongst the futuristic laboratory; its clockface a gold emblem plate of a lyre, a snakehead at each curved end of its arm. You pay no mind to Arias’ strange interior design decisions and return your gaze to Leon.

“Of course you’re on his side.” Carlos sighs through his smile. He follows your sight to stare at whatever you’re looking at too. He can’t tell what you’re thinking through your blank expression.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You toss him a side eye.

“Leon swung first.” Carlos says, massaging at the spot in his arm, bruising a swollen purple. “It hurts you know. Pretty boy is such a heavy-hitter. If I didn’t know better, I’d assume he wanted to knock me out. And hey… If you’ll give me a kiss, it’ll heal faster.”

You ignore Carlos. “You were making comments.”

“And he took those comments personally.” Carlos shrugs; there is no remorse in his eyes. And then he sighs heavily, but not heavy enough to take the weight off his chest. “You have no idea, huh.”

Carlos stands right in front of you, pulling you by your hand, meeting you face to face. You peek at him before looking away flustered. He seems sincere, no longer that playful smile or teasing about kissing you, like there is something he needs to tell you. “Do I have to spell it out to you?” Carlos’ voice is husky yet when he leans in.

You clear your throat, feet planting to the floor to not let Carlos push into your space any further. Turning your head, you gaze strongly into his eyes. “What’re you talking about?”

“C’mon, can I make this anymore obvious?”

Carlos pulls you into his embrace, cutting off the tension bubbling towards the surface, and wraps his arms around you. His lips crashes onto yours, and his tongue is telling how long Carlos had been wanting you, waiting for you to notice. The kiss is gentle at first, slightly hesitant. After your lips are accustomed to each other, Carlos grows bolder, rolling your bottom lip between his, and you smack your teeth open to taste your tongue against his. It tastes like the soft bud of a candy. Carlos grasps you hard now, pulling you in for a deeper kiss. There is something in that kiss that changes your brain chemistry, almost like magic. Your lips part, taking a heavy breath from the action.

“Is this obvious enough?” Carlos mutters, and you nod obediently.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The abrupt, punching noise is coming from the door. The knob turns erratically a few times, but it doesn’t click open. Its hinges slams against the lock mechanism. You can hear muffled screaming from the other side.

You should let Leon out, you think, but Carlos traps you in his assertive kiss once more. Both of his hands come around your back, circling them in his tight, comforting hug. Even when your body commands you to move, you can’t. Do you really enjoy the kiss so much?

Leon bangs onto the glass, it doesn’t break; instead, you can hear the hollowed hard thump in front of you. You look at Leon, suddenly guilty for no reason, and your hands come forward to push Carlos away. But your hands are weak in his love.

“Eyes on me, darling.” Carlos takes control of you, peppering kisses on the corner of your lips. What you and Carlos have together isn’t kissing anymore—it’s more like an exploration of tongue, leaving you to gasp for air whenever your lips temporarily parts, just to close them together in his eagerness.

“Leo—” kiss. “—Could’b—” another kiss. “—in troub—”.

Carlos peppers kisses on the corner of your mouth, down your exposed neck ready for him, and into the crook between your shoulder. His curls tickle against you lightly, and you let out a slight giggle as he kisses you down.

“Que pescoço bonito…” Carlos mumbles, his lips softening around your skin. It starts with a light, teasing bite, nothing far of a nibble. All of the sudden, the lovingness mutates into something else, something possessive. He suckles the soft skin between his lips, focusing on a particular spot, and it sends a light pain onto your neck.

“Carlos… I think that’s enough now…” You wince slightly.

But he doesn’t pull away. Worse—Carlos sinks his canines into your skin, ripping out the flesh from within and feeding onto the softness with it a twinkle of joy in his eyes. Pieces of your muscle fall out, blood streaming from the sides of his mouth as Carlos’ head cocks to the air, swallowing his meal in a loud content gulp. You fall to the floor, faint groans muttering in agony; your hands try to press down the wound, but the bleeding just won’t stop.

The door bangs louder. Leon thinks, “fuck it,” as he lunges his entire body weight against the door that holds him hostage in this tiny room. The lock clangs, hinge weakened from the impact, and so Leon spin kicks right underneath the knob and it finally breaks, crashing open outwards.

“The hell is wrong with you!” He resists the urge to pin Carlos against the wall right at this instant. That’s not the time or place now, Leon needs to take you to safety first and foremost.

He sprints towards your direction to pick your fallen self from the floor, blood mixed with flesh crumbs trickling like a muddy stream through the gaps of your fingers, pooling around your head. Leon checks your pulse: You are still breathing, thank goodness for that. But not for long. The forked veins along your wrists starts to darken, until they are fully visible through the river of your arms: you’re turning.

He retrieves the case from his gear, then the syringe. Leon can’t let you turn—not you, anyone else but you. Turning you sideways, he removes the syringe cap, crosses his fingers, and injects it right below your shoulder cap. You start to pant, muffled like something is strangling you in your sleep and eating you out from the inside. The agonised moans escalate louder and louder, until it finally stops.

Leon’s heart tightens. He checks your pulse again, but there is none. The black veins continue to crawl closer inside of you, twisting and turning through the labyrinth to reach your heart’s core.

“Shit, shit, shit! The cure isn’t working.” Leon throws the empty syringe across the floor, and it breaks into shards on the floor. “C’mon. Stay with me. Please.”

As if his pleas have been heard, your hand rises, coming on top of his hand. Leon lets out a sigh of relief for a second, before your fingers tighten with the strength of a bear on top of his clenched fist, digging your claws into it. Your eyes fly open, and Leon sees your irises dilating so far it turns hollow, void of colour and soul.

“Leon…” Your words tear through his heart in a million different ways.

“Not you too.” His voice hitches.

Your fingers hook into Leon’s pliant skin, until it bleeds through the calloused surface on the back of his palms, dragging them down for a straight cut. A sharp pain runs along his hands, nothing Leon can’t handle, but it will most likely leave a scar. He somersaults backwards, hand coming down to prepare his rifle, and ready to aim when he recovers into a stand. Leon can’t bring himself to aim at you. So he aims his gun’s barrel directly at Carlos.

Carlos doesn’t react, merely licks his bloodied lips clean. “Look at him, poor little thing.”

Leon clenches his gun and twists the selector on his rifle, firing a burst of three rounds directly at Carlos. They all miss. Carlos dodges all three bullets with animalistic speed, smiling through it, and disappoints when Leon holds his fire at the sight.

“What do you want, Oliveira?” Leon spits out; there’s no use wasting ammunition right now.

“Just a bit of fun, pretty boy.” Carlos utters, his grin stretching so wide that his features become distorted. “Care to play with us?”

“Fat chance.”

Blood is no longer gushing out of your neck. The hand supporting it lets go, finding the blood dry. If there is supposed to be pain, you don’t sense it. In fact, you feel the opposite. Recharged and spirited than ever before. Your body moves like butter, but then again, you don’t remember moving them.

Your body creeps behind Leon’s back, and push down his two elbows, clasping the two arms together behind him in one swift momentum. The rifle falls to the floor. “I’m so hungry, Carlos.” The whines that escape your mouth are not yours even if it did comes out of your own. It plants love marks on Leon’s trapezius, tainting his pale skin with redness. “Can I have him already? I want him now. so. bad.”

Somewhere within you cringe at those words, but your physical manoeuvres with a mind of its own, regardless of your intentions. It chases your thoughts away, until it falls and falls into a dark well behind your sockets. And with one final push, your mind shuts you out, numbing your resistance as your hollow grin turns wider.

“Remember. He isn’t ours.” Carlos corrects you, but you don’t seem to be listening, merely focusing on the blond in front of you. “But we can still have a bit of fun.”

“Fun, fun…” You smack your lips like a mechanical doll, inching them closer to Leon’s lips through the blankness of your gaze. The warmth of your skin fades as your nails grasp against his neck with aggressive affection, like you can and will break his neck out of his cuteness. Leon flinches his face sideways, holding in his nostrils to not take in your poisoned breath even as you drool over his checks like a beast in heat. Despite how you have taken form of your human body, that’s the end of the resemblance between the real you and this… monster.

An idea forms in Carlos’ head right before you sink your teeth into Leon, and he stops you. “Don’t turn him yet.” Carlos says. “I want to taste him fresh.”

Your lips twist in disappointment, in spite of your intrigue, you are unable to keep your lips filling the entirety of Leon’s neck with your love marks. Under a different kind of circumstances, Leon would absolutely love this from you. But this isn’t you. He doesn’t know if any part of you is still inside.

“So what d’you say, pretty boy? We’ll treat you really well.” Carlos says. Surely, Leon won’t agree to this. Perhaps a swift death will be less agonising than whatever the two of you have in store for him. At the same time, Leon remembers the piece of important evidence in his gear. He can’t afford to die right now—the hope of mankind lies in his pocket.

As Leon pauses to consider his options, his earpiece cries out, and Rebecca blurts from the other side of the call: “Leon! I’m sending a chopper to the rescue. Mike’s on his way. I need you to stall for time before he arrives.”

Leon pretends he never heard the transmission in fear of rousing suspicion. Stall for time, huh? Leon can certainly do that. There is nowhere else out of here. Between him and the exit, it’s roughly fifteen feet. He can run now, but it will not take the two of your combined forces long to catch up. If he plays your stupid games, Leon may have a chance at survival. And so does humanity. Maybe.

“Fine.” Leon says. “Think I can fit it in my schedule.”

“Charmer as always, pretty boy.” Carlos grins, bringing Leon’s chin up to bring him in for a kiss. Carlos purrs into the kiss, and the gentle, tingling vibration sends a gentle gulp down Leon’s throat, almost rising into a moan, but he refrains it—out of pride.

“Fuck off.” Leon utters the word quietly.

“You kinda like this, don’t you?” Even if it’s the truth, Leon will never admit this, especially knowing that he, to some degree, is still the dickhead Carlos he knows. But damn, Carlos can sure kiss well. So much so that Leon is leaning in, increasingly harder to resist the onslaught of warm softness on top of his own. But like hell Leon would ever admit to something like this.

You break away his wrists, unable to wait any longer. Your knees and palms land against the icy floor, eye level to his crotch. Leon swallows, taking in the sight with a mix of reluctance and eagerness.

You smack your wet lips when you pull Leon’s zipper down. Leon swallows halfway, holding his breath instead. This is all part of his ploy to stall time for the rescue, but the sight of you—zombie or not—on your knees in front of him had been the item of his imaginations for years. For a moment, watching your eyelashes flutter underneath him with a drunken expression, like a trick of the light or his imagination, Leon thinks it’s you. He has fantasised about the different scenarios to catch you in this position, but now in person, Leon doesn’t even know where to put his hands.

Noticing this, you let out a youthful giggle. You unbuckle his pants, and the chuckle stops when you see how his dick already tents over his black compression underwear, a ring of precum luring you to have a taste at it.

“Look at you, baby. All ready for me.” You bring down the elastic of his underwear, and it springs up to welcome you.

If you can only use one word to describe Leon’s dick, it’s ‘beautiful’. His long and slender cock is adorned by a few purposeful veins that reaches to the seams at the end of his shirt—it’s the dick of a Greek god. And it looks so fucking tasty. Precum beads over his tip almost immediately, tearing up at the sight of you watching him with such intent, tempting you to soothe it. And so you do, lapping at the slit of his tip, licking a bead off, just for another to immediately pool on the slit, over and over again.

“This is wrong.” Leon says, but his gaze is cemented at the bead on your tongue, disappearing when you pull it back into your mouth.

“Then tell me to stop then.” Leon tries to, his hand placing firm on both of your shoulders. But when he pushes you off, his hand goes limp against his better judgement. “See, you can’t.” You resist with all your strength to slow, licking around the crest of the tip. Leon shivers in Carlos’ kiss, moving his hand to under your chin, wanting to see you clearer in the light.

“Ohh.” Your grin grows wider and wider, staring back with all seeing eyes. “I get it now. You have a crush on me.”

He withdraws his hand too swiftly for an innocent man. “You’re wrong.”

“Your face is giving you away. And so is your cute dick.”

Leon is defensive, immediately, and despite how much he wants to tell you otherwise, it may be too late for those words. Leon’s leg turns into rubber as you breathe onto his shaft, and for a fearful second of weakness, he wants to tell you the biggest secret that he had been holding close to his heart all these years. Leon snaps out of the thought. If he wants to ask you out, he’s going to do it properly, not like this.

“Shut up.” He quips back. “Did I tell you to stop? That mouth should be wide open, sucking me off right now.”

Leon felt a little guilty saying that, but that’s the only thing that can probably stop you from continuing this conversation. And it does work. Leon’s unexpected command immediately pools your underwear as you swallow your defiance into the back of your throat, simply murmur and obey: “Yes, sir.”

For you, so far, you had just been teasing him. Playing with your food before devouring it. But now, you want him all. Without much force from your end, your mouth opens to take his fat cock. The length of him doesn’t deter your cheeks to hollow out to suck him in with much enthusiasm. The warmth of his dick contrasts against the cold dead body, and it makes your whole body tremble in ecstasy.

Slowly at first, you move in front of the first half of his pulsating shaft, in spite of your lower pain tolerance, you don’t wish for your jaw to fall out before you finish your first dessert of the day. His dick curves when he enters, prodding against your soft palate as you widen out your throat to take more of his size. You think to yourself: How wonderful it would feel if he was hitting you from the back, but you are unwilling to let go of his tasty length, salted lightly with his taste.

The words that leave Leon’s mouth contradicts himself, mumbling apologies through series of whimpers, as if he was speaking to you, the real you, and not whoever you had become in the crossfire of Arias’ experiment, until an interruption by a gruff voice that sets you back to cruel reality where you are already gone.

“Baby… Let me have some fun too.” Carlos touches your waist, guiding your hips to lift into the air and feet to stand, all whilst your mouth is still occupied with another man’s sex. You can’t see what goes on behind you, only hearing the haste shuffling and the clink of a belt unbuckling and zips forcing open. Its tip meeting at the end of you, preparing.

“God, you’re drippin’ wet.” Realisation sets in that your juice is running down both of your thighs generously, air conditioning blowing on them and making your legs cold. Your underwear has been sticking against your legs since you first saw Leon’s dick, coming in your pants through the eagerness of it all without noticing it.

Carlos guides your underwear off your pathetic self, which you’re grateful for having the sticky fabric leave your body and let your wetness flow freely without obstructions. Carlos runs two fingers along the stripe of your cunt. “So swollen… You like being looked at, don’t you?” You shiver when the pad of his finger rests a little too long on the head of your clit, pressing it like a button that instantly discharges your lovely juices on Carlos’ palm. He lubricates his other finger with it, then dips two fingers inside of you, finding it already loose and ready. Despite the stickiness, Carlos slurps at his dripping finger like melted ice cream, savouring every bit of your taste.

“Just like how I imagined it…” He corrects himself. “No, even better.”

The virus has coursed through your body rapidly, and every second your sexuality is unsatisfied it throbs a sharp pain straight into your gut. You can imagine it must be the same for Carlos too, using up his entire willpower not to thrust into you raw and to relief some of that pain off his body.

As you draw your lips out of Leon’s cock, relaxing against his tip, you ram yourself backwards. Your cunt swallows the entirety of Carlos’ warmness and girth, moaning a deep, lusted sigh. Carlos groans too, low and heavy, taken aback by your forwardness.

“God… Fuckin’ hell…” Carlos adjusts himself; his hands grabbing a handful of your ass, squeezing it so tight it fills out his fingers. He fucks you doggy style, with not much reservations from his part either. Your eyes roll back at the impact, mouth ajar with Leon’s cock in your mouth. Jealousy gets the better of Leon, and with a heaved pump, he thrusts himself right into your gaping mouth, hitting against the back of your throat that triggers a gag reflex in you. A blend of your saliva and Leon’s precum rolls down your jaw, making a satisfied response that is incomprehensible from the way Leon fucks your mouth while glaring at his competition.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, pretty boy?” Carlos smiles at Leon in return, accepting the challenge, thrusting you into your cunt faster and harder than ever before, determined to make sure you moan the hardest when he fucks into you.

“Get to work, baby.” Through your blurry haze, it becomes harder to tell who is speaking, even if their voices sound distinctively different. So you obey the voice anyway—satisfying both by slurping Leon’s dick faster, while simultaneously arching your back to help Carlos reach further inside of you. It gets messy, really messy as the obscenity of you gets fucked on both ends permeate through the empty laboratory.

“Baby, you can take a bit more than this, can’t you?” Leon pats your head, and you nod eagerly.

You have already taken his entire length all the way to the base, what more can he mean? But Leon finds a way to make you feel even better by shoving himself even deeper down your throat. Your jaw unhinges to accommodate his force, his balls pressed firm onto your chin. Fear settles for a second before realising there is no pain, and you can take him even deeper with your jaw unhinged like this. You reposition yourself, and his dick prods further at the back of your throat, then down your windpipe, stretching the narrow tube wide open. His tip pokes out of the skin, outlining his tip onto your throat like a forbidden adam’s apple.

“That’s it, good work. You can drink my cum too, right? You kinda have to now.”

Leon had never felt anything like this before. It was phenomenal, downright terrifying how much he enjoys it. Something he thinks isn’t possible—and it shouldn’t have been—but you have outweigh his expectations once again. That doesn’t mean he did not hesitate at first, especially when he sees how the tears run down lightly along your cheek, and your jaw twitching with a burning sensation that weighs at your throat. Your eyes meet his with a desperate gaze, so fucking dirty with how you plead for him to cum with your eyes alone.

So he fucks into your face one last time, and the white sticky goodness comes undone in your throat. Even if it doesn’t hurt, it is uncomfortable for your windpipe to be stuffed with hot, thick cum that chokes you against his limp dick.

Carlos can feel you tightening up fast, more stickiness within as Leon groans out a distressed howl, and your torso shudders heavily again. He knows you had just came with him inside, ripples and ripples of pleasure taking control of your body. He fucks your cunt into your overstimulation as the pleasure continues to hit you in waves from your behind.

“Oohh baby. You look so fuckin’ hot right now, baby.” His hand grasps your cheeks tightly, leaving behind a firm handprint on your luscious booty. “You want me to fuck a baby into you, huh?” Behind you, Carlos lets out a growling moan, the soft tendrils falling over Carlos’ face as you clench your insides and threaten to keep you there, letting your walls ride against the sex.

“I got a big load coming. Can you handle it?” You nod again and again. Even if you already came once, it’s not enough. You want more.

Carlos races to the edge of bliss, and he comes so unexpectedly, thinking he still has a bit longer. But nevertheless, Carlos watches his tip release thick white strings into your cunt, then plugs it back far inside of you as your second release crashes on top of your first.

“The perfect fucking cumdump.” are Carlos’ final words as he draws himself out, plopping his weight against your back in exhaustion.

With your body stuffed full, you lie in the pool of your own pleasure, liquids flowing into each other. Carlos huffs his chest, burying his chest into your back, losing sight of Leon in their post orgasms. Your neck exposes upwards to the sky, pulsing to Leon’s attention. The three of you remain there for a while, every breath a struggle to catch up with the intensity of the aftermath.

Then, Leon drops his head—his eyes catch sight of the tactical gear he is wearing. His combat knife reflects the fluorescent lights in its sheath at his breast, then Leon looks back at the two of you, paying himself no mind. It’s an opening. If he hits you on the crook of your neck at the top of your spine, it may not be fatal, but it will allow a moment of paralysis, just enough for him to break free and flee to safety.

Leon slows his hand as he reaches for the knife, not to startle either you or Carlos. You are oblivious, choking up his cum and coughing it onto the floor. His fingers reach the hilt now, curling along it as draws the knife out of the sheath slowly. And with a deep breath, Leon plunges the knife down, aiming straight into the back of your neck. It never made it that far. The blade is caught by a rough hand.

“What’re you doing?” Carlos questions as his eyes land on Leon, perhaps giving him the benefit of the doubt. But it’s no mistake what Leon’s intentions are with how the knife is maimed towards your head. “You know, I can see your reflection on the floor, right?” Carlos’ expression turns dark, crooking into a displeased frown that warns Leon, once again, that his attempts are fruitless. The sharp end runs through his fingers, and he lets the blood drip down his palm. “Such a bad boy.”

Carlos yanks the weapon away from Leon, spinning the hilt in the air, and catches it securely between his bloodied palm. He rounds one arm around Leon’s chest, and the other hand lining the blade parallel against Leon’s neck. “If you want to live, do as I say.”

Leon knows better than to struggle against a man holding a weapon to his neck. He does as Carlos says, backing himself into the isolated room under Carlos’ guidance, pushing the door with the broken hinge aside as they enter. Carlos kicks the dead body away from the bed, and it lolls limply to the other side of the room.

“Lie on the bed.” Carlos demands and Leon obeys, climbing on top of the medical bed. The texture of the mattress resembles weak foam when Leon drops his weight on top.

Leon’s wrists are forced to jerk backwards before the top of his head. He winces at the touch of cold metal circles around his left wrist, and it clicks. The chain goes around the metal headframe, and Carlos repeats the same on Leon’s right wrist, securing tight with finality. Leon watches you and Carlos tower over him, the fury of two disappointed parents overseeing him. Leon struggles his arm free, but he recoils when the chains tug him back.

Is this the end for Leon…?

Clothes start to come off; Carlos strips off every remaining fabric and gear on him, and you follow too. Leon’s clothing—cuffed against the bed had to be ripped off his body, allowing witness to the most intimate parts of their bodies. Carlos makes the first move—not giving Leon a moment to breathe when he jumps on top of Leon’s figure, locking his splayed body down. He struggles underneath, wiggling and kicking Carlos off in desperation, but he’s too strong.

“Don't resist, Leon. It’ll hurt more if you do.” There’s a void of emotion in Carlos’ words, and the speed of a cheetah as he plunges his sharp teeth into Leon’s reddened neck, marked with your loving insanity. As he leans down, Leon can see the veins around his eyes bulging and pounding like a heartbeat. Fear takes over Leon; he desperately wrestles Carlos off him as a last ray of hope. But all of it turns futile when Carlos manages to bite into a bit of that skin—and a bit of that skin is all the venom needs to take over the host, contaminating his blood, his cells, with the dreaded disease.

“Fuck!” Leon yells from the bottom of his lungs, and the part where his teeth lands burns, even if it doesn’t bleed furiously. The entirety of his left arm is turning numb, and that feeling spreads across his body, trying to reach his heart and mind, and clouds away his sight. It reaches further into Leon’s system, and he coughs out blood from the corner of his mouth.

“Hang in there, pretty boy. It’ll feel good very soon.” Leon hurls a loud scream at Carlos. “Here, I’ll help you take the pain away.”

Carlos strokes himself, still lubricated from your juices, and so is Leon. That makes things easier for Carlos to let the crest of his dick meets at Leon’s base, running it up the length of the slender shaft. Leon flinches, holding back a displeased yet relishing whimper that surprises Carlos, and he wants to hear more of that cute sound.

“Such a pretty boy with a pretty dick, Leon.” Carlos whispers into his ear, their tips circle each other a few more times, and it does help Leon subside the pain, but the lack of friction isn’t enough, almost unbearable as the virus attacks his body.

Leon’s dick twitches in agony, and he whimpers once more. Carlos whistles with delight. “You want more, pretty boy?”

“Only if you stop talking so much shit, Oliveira.” Leon uses whatever movement that isn’t restrained by the cuffs to urge himself closer to the fat, girthy cock. Carlos’ dick taunts him into submission, and Leon does not like Carlos having so much power over him.

“That works with me.” Carlos raises his eyebrows, licking his bottom lip with a lust-laden expression. He brings both cocks together, rubbing them parallel against each other’s shafts and jerks it up and down. Carlos can feel his dick grinds along Leon’s vein, and their precums start to overflow all over, making the duo moan in unison.

Seeing them dripping onto each other makes you feel left out. You have been fingering yourself against the wall this entire time, but your wrists turn sore, and the stimulation isn’t enough anymore. You need more. Carlos sees you through the corner of his peripheral, and he gestures you to join them, squishing around to make room for you in the middle.

You heave on top of the bed, with Leon feeling most of the weight at the bottom. The metal hinges scratch hard against the frame with its abrupt impact, probably exceeding the weight limit. But that’s not on the list of your priorities right now. If the bed falls apart from fucking too hard, then so be it.

You grind along both of their lengths, having them fuck you between your folds. The three of you continue to move against each other, rubbing, grinding with fervour to relish in the friction on each of your sensitive parts. Every time one of the tips brush your clit, your cunt drips wet and coats their dick with your juice.

After their dicks have been lubricated, the boys lean back so their dick points the sky to receive you inside of them. Taking turns, you lower yourself onto Leon and Carlos’ lengths one at a time, instantly adapting around each of their length and girth with a harsh whine, bouncing from one dick to the other.

But Leon doesn’t want to share you at all. When you plunge down onto him, he uses this opportunity to thrust into you from below over and over until you suck him in desperately, each thrust relieving a bit of pain from his and your gut. You let him—unwilling to withdraw yourself from easy pleasure.

Carlos’ tip rubs against the gap between Leon’s dick and your cunt. “Hey, make some room for me.”

“Why’re you squeezing in here? Use the other hole.” Leon takes up more space inside of your cunt out of spite.

“And let you have all the fun, pretty boy? I don’t think so.”

“C’mon. Help us out.” Carlos presses a warm pad of finger onto the skin of your belly, and that urges you to reposition yourself. You adjust so Leon lays closer to your clit, leaving Carlos enough room to enter from the other end. “That’s it, baby. You really want us to fuck you in the same hole, huh? That’s how cock hungry you are?”

“I… Fuck… Yes, please...” Whatever dignity remains in you is gone now, excited by the idea of having your guts penetrated by two fat dicks; carnal needs turns into blind desperation.

“As you wish, baby.” Carlos moans, lining his dick in your pussy right above Leon’s, and the crest of Carlos’ tip crawls into your cunt with much strain and patience.

“It's not going to fit, Oliveira. You’re too fuckin’ big. Get off.” Leon grumbles.

Carlos glares at Leon to stop whining, then soothes your back with a gentle press to encourage you more. “You can do this, baby. You'll make it fit, won't you?” Another inch of Carlos slides inside of you, and you howl in slow agonised enjoyment. Both of them together is too much, even for you. The pleasure swoons into you, flushing your skin a colder red as your pussy throbs open some more.

Half of Carlos’ fat cock slides inside of you now, almost making it all the way. A wave of overwhelming anguish surges to your stretched out entrance, and the ghastly sound behind your throat wants to cry out loud. Instead, you chew on your tongue, hard, bursting the taste of your blood onto your palate.

That is when Leon drops his voice to a whisper for your ears only: “Hey, don’t hurt yourself. Bite onto my hand if you need.”

Even after everything that has happened, Leon only ever offers you his kindness. You appreciate the sentiment, a bit touched. Under his sweet encouragement and almost chewing off half of Leon’s arm, you gape your hole wider. Carlos’ arm tenses as he fucks his entire cock in with one final push, filling every crevice of your cunt with their shapes bent against your walls.

“Puta merda… It’s so tight in here.” Carlos breath chokes in the back of his throat, but he’s smiling.

“No shit, Oliveira. Your fault for forcing yourself in.” Leon kicks Carlos in the thigh with his free foot that’s not buried under the pressure.

Carlos moves first, stretching you out, and Leon groans at the back and forth friction against Carlos’ pulsating dick. Your breath is ragged, feeling both dicks cramped inside the tiny hole, until Carlos utters: “Gonna fuck both our babies into you.”

Your breath quickens in unruly speed as they start to move, taking turns thrusting inside at varying speeds and aptitude, not allowing your pussy even a moment of rest. Leon pulls back when Carlos forcefully thrusts in, then it reverses with Leon’s length curving up ever so perfectly to read your g-spot, fucking against your sensitive womb so deeply as the tip indents at the skin of your belly with every heaved thrust. Sometimes they thrust in at the same time, but most times, they like to make it distinct which dick is fucking you.

It's this competition they have going, to see who can make you moan the loudest. And right now, there is no clear winner. The cockiness in Leon and Carlos dies out as the pleasure renders them unable to speak, communicating their pleasure solely through a chorus of pleasured outcries, and you are the main vocalist.

The tip of their dicks throb inside of you; Leon and Carlos sensing that they are both close. Tossing each other a raised eyebrow, they scheme something with their eyes alone. They nod in sync—one slow nod, two slow nods, and on third—Leon and Carlos explodes their pent up nut inside of you, stuffing you with what feels like almost endless shoots of cum until it rims your cunt with white, overfilling, and eventually bursting out from within you like a water fountain from the other end, gushing your hole so full your belly grows almost double size.

As Leon releases himself into you, his vision suddenly turns hazy as nausea washes over him from the sheer ecstasy of it all. Until eventually, his sight falls into darkness.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

Leon wakes to the voice of someone mumbling the four-word ritual over and over. His bareness is sticky, sweating into the mattress of the bed. Moving his hands, he remembers they are still cuffed against the bed frame. Leon looks above him to find the cuff rusty on the chains, and he may be able to break them if he uses a bit of force. Leon tugs at the chain over and over till his delicate wrists are scratched and bleeding. He brings down the chain harshly one more time, and it finally breaks apart.

Leon rises from the bed, examining the scene. You and Carlos are not with him in the room—where have they gone? That same tune rings inside his head once more, singing in shrieking calmness.

Tick, tock, tick, tock. His life seconds numbering, Tick, tock, tick. It stopped short, never to go again.

Leon falls to the floor. The throbbing pain against his forehead upsets him further, and Leon recalls the events of what happened, and remembers—that he’s no longer human. But for whatever reason, he can still think for himself. Through the corner of his eye, he catches something stuck between the metal post of the bed.

Leon’s guts urge him to reach for it. And he does, retrieving a small cylinder from the dusty metal, and opens his palm to find a syringe. It labels ‘S’ in faded text. He remembers seeing something similar in the case, and there was a missing syringe inside. Could this be what he was looking for?

There’s not much time left, as the voices in his head grow louder and louder, deafening his thoughts out and pushing his conscience further behind his mind. Without hesitation, Leon removes the cap and injects it in himself.

The sharp end pierces into Leon’s skin, a harsh sting floods into his body, then the pain and the song fades away like a distant memory. All the pain hits him at once—his injured neck, half-eaten palm, the soreness of his wrists tied up against the frame for what seems like forever, even the tip of his dick is burning from the energetic activities from today.

Regardless, there is no time for self pity. Leon rummages through his gear for his employee card, and rushes back to the main laboratory in front of the computer. He plops himself on the swivel office chair as the taps the ID on the scanner, and it beeps green, logging in successfully.

There are almost every document Leon needs here. Information about Prototype A and Prototype S, its composition and construction, research material, all of it. Prototype S? Leon hasn’t heard this before, not even in the confidential documents Rebecca provided at the start of the mission.

“Rebecca, come in.” Leon calls into his earpiece, but he is met with fuzz and cracked static. The signal is jammed. But it doesn’t matter—most importantly, Leon needs to send all this data back to Rebecca ASAP.

Leon removes his watch to place it on the RFID scanner, moving all the files into his watch that will synchronise the documents to Rebecca’s laboratory. Leon watches the upload percentage, fifty percent… sixty… seventy percent. When the bar hits seventy-five, the monitor fades to black.

What? Leon clicks at the screen a few times but it’s unresponsive. He spins backwards from his chair, clicking on the solitary red button to boot the system. There is no light. The power cord had been pulled out from behind. And the other end of the wire meets you with a familiar face Leon had seen many times from the wanted posters.

“Agent Kennedy.” Glenn Arias. Leon isn’t expecting Arias to be so calm, so weighed down by age.

Arias holds up an emblem hanging by a long gold chain, pendulating it in front of him. There’s a singular clock hand on it, ticking down the seconds. What on earth is that symbol? Leon doesn’t realise this then, but it shares the same sigil as the antique clockface.

Whatever Arias is trying to do with this technique—it does not work for Leon as he lunges forward. Arias resorts into drawing his pistol, unloading his rounds at Leon’s head. Leon ducks in response, spinning the office chair, and the bullets fire into the backrest, missing Leon completely. Arias swaps out his magazine, and this gives Leon just enough opening to swing a side kick with the momentum, his heel forcing the pistol off Arias’ hand.

The weapon goes flying, landing on the bleached tiles with a harsh clang. It’s victory for Leon. He can arrest Arias here and now, and end the misery for the millions who have suffered through his schemes. That is, until, a quickened whisk of air follows Leon from behind, its strong force grasping him on his neck through a familiar domineering grip.

“Son of a bitch.” Leon winces, struggling to keep his eyes open as he watches Carlos clench his suffocating hands around Leon’s neck. You surface right behind him, waiting for your orders as you watch indifferently at Leon’s suffering. The orbs in your eyes are pitch black now with a reddening centre, stripping away whatever natural colour and glaze that used to look so pretty.

“Good job, the two of you.” Arias dangles the chain again; you and Carlos dart your gaze onto the strange symbol, mouthing the familiar words in silence: Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Arias raises a graceful finger and brings it down. Carlos strikes Leon towards the floor. A bone or two breaks somewhere within him. His throat stings and burns. Leon tries to sit up, but the pain is too overwhelming for him to stand. Arias presses his black aniline leather shoes against the back of Leon’s neck, holding him there, crushing that pretty little neck of his if Leon even dares to move.

“Seems like you really enjoyed yourself, Agent Kennedy. Might have to charge you for this one.” Arias’ expression tries to be placid, but still, it cannot hide the amusement in his face.

Through strangled breath, Leon utters. “How do you know my name?”

“You work for the government, don’t you?” Arias’ face twists into disgust, like he just ate a whole lemon. “Leon S. Kennedy.” He lets the name roll off his tongue. There is a heavy pause as Arias seems to be recalling something. “I hate guys like you who think they’re always right.”

“And the guy who makes bioweapons is better?” Leon scoffs in disbelief, almost uncontrollably, and it causes the burn in his throat to flare up. “T-Talk about hypocritical.”

“I never claim to be better. Only smarter.” He toys with the emblem skilfully between two fingers, and stops the spin halfway.

“You should have been executed.” Leon growls.

“And somehow fate is on my side. Yet again.” Arias retrieves Leon’s watch from the scanner, and pockets it along with his gold chain. Arias turns the other way, walking towards the exit, visibly bored. He was hoping to have a bit more fun with Leon. But now, the game is over before it even began.

“T-Th-They’re coming f-for you.” Leon’s cracked voice grates against the background. Arias immediately stops in his tracks, turning his neck to Leon without moving the rest of his body.

“Who’s coming?” Aria’s voice is quiet yet demanding.

Leon tries to speak, but the words escape him through a weakened, quiet voice, barely audible. Arias stomps back to him, planting his leg back onto Leon, cleaning the dirt on his sole onto his bare neck. “Talk. Now.”

Leon grins, biting back blood inside of his mouth. He doesn’t say anything.

“TELL ME.” Arias’ eyes burn a deeper red, a rage blazing through the torch in his eyes and seethes out of his ears. You and Carlos gets into position, fully intending to do whatever it takes to make Leon talk. Arias waves them away. “You better fucking tell me right now.”

Leon responds with a tight-lipped smile, still strained from his injuries.

Arias resists himself from punching the smugness out of Leon, stroking at his wedding ring instead. It calms him immediately to feel the familiar mineral around his finger, knowing that it means more to him to sully the vows of his love with the blood of someone as pathetic as Leon. Arias closes his eyes to recollect himself in a deep breath. When he opens them, a smile hangs on his face like nothing happened.

“Doesn’t matter. You have already lost.”

“You should be. He’s a tough fella. Killed so many villains like you.” Leon spits on Arias’ shiny shoes, testing Arias’ composure to the limits. “And he’ll take you down, and that stupid empire of yours.”

Arias’ fists clenches fully in an instant, so hard it bleeds right through his palms. Brows furrowing so hard it comically pops out his veins. He finally cracks, feet pressing down so hard that Leon groans and chokes. But even so close to his death, Leon looks arrogant in Arias’ perspective.

Letting this man die so easily? Not a chance.

And with newfound determination to prolong his agony, Arias dangles the chain in front of you and Carlos, murmuring a final discontented order:

“Take him to the cage.”

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. —yours truly, rose. PORTUGUESE TRANSLATION: (thank you @navstuffs ilysm) Puta merda = Fucking shit Porra = Fuck Que pescoço bonito = Such a beautiful neck kissing @scar-crossedlvrs for the beta read, my carlos specialist @navstuffs, for helping me with the portuguese! and @j3llyd0nut for keeping me sane and not distracted by jjk thirsts through discord calls!! please check them out i love them so so much!!!! taglist (open): @j3llyd0nut @ovaryacted @daydreamrot @madcap-riflette @access--granted @obsolescent @briermelli @secretiveauthor @ghosty-frog @navstuffs @slowcryinginthedark @rentaldarling @lesbntired @redvleanli @vinsiliors @whoisgami @gaylorvader @wxwieeee @eddsthemunson © roseglazedlens — please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.

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rubysunnday · 1 year

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when it's cold, i'd like to die

summary: they all fell victim to the datura meloxia that night, they all saw something - yet y/n's nightmare is unescapable, despite kaz's best efforts

a/n: haha, lol, i'm alive

Kaz pulled apart the doors, gradually revealing the room behind them. Y/N stood behind him, taking it all in. It was a beautiful building - the walls decorated with intricately patterned wallpaper and wooden panels.

“Spread out,” Kaz ordered, his rough voice loud in the quiet of the room.

Y/N stepped around him and into the room, taking slow, careful steps. Things were going a bit too well to her liking - they had yet to run into their usual chaos.

“I can hear another heartbeat,” Tolya said softly, walking further into the room.

“I thought it was empty,” Jesper muttered, passing Y/N.

“So did I,” she replied, glancing at him.

“It’s fainter,” Tolya explained, “further in the house.”

Tolya took a step forward, almost reaching the other door that led further into the house. The floorboards under his foot sunk suddenly and something, somewhere within the walls, released and the doors on either side of the room slid shut with a resounding bang.

Y/N ran back to the door they’d come through and tried to prise it back open. Her finger nails dug into the wood and she groaned, struggling to pull them at all, even with Jesper’s help.

Inej unsheathed one of her knives and stabbed the patterned screen. The knife bounced off it, leaving nothing behind. She tried again and still, nothing. “It’s impenetrable,” she said, stepping back. “Great.”

Kaz knocked on the wooden panelling with the head of his cane. His face dropped in realisation as, instead of a hollow wooden sound, there was a metal clang. “The frames are made of metal.”

Jesper pressed a hand against the frame, leaning his head in. “They’re Durast made.”

Y/N tilted her head back and looked around the room. It wasn’t big - it was smaller than what had been Kaz’s office back at the old Crow Club. But given that the frames were Durast made, and that Tolya had detected another heartbeat at the back of the grounds, there was more to the small room than it was letting on.

From somewhere within the roof, something metal clanked against something else, causing a ticking sound. Y/N’s eyes scanned the perimeter of the roof until they stopped on one of the small lanterns hanging on the wall. As she watched it, a red mist began to spray out of the floral shape above, spreading out into the air.

“There’s something in the air,” Tolya said, looking up at the lantern too.

It was, sort of, stating the obvious. They’d all noticed the red vapour by then and Y/N could feel her chest growing tight, the ability to breathe getting harder. She fell back, hitting the wall behind her, the room spinning around her like a spinning top she so often saw in the Ketterdam markets.

Y/N felt someone looking at her and she had enough awareness left to turn her head, finding Kaz staring at her, his own face utterly impassive. Yet his eyes gave everything away - the slight widening showing the panic that had taken over the usual stoicism.

Because whilst he may plan for things to go catastrophically wrong, Kaz Brekker couldn’t plan a way to cheat death when it came for them.

Jesper went first, falling to the floor and falling still. Inej lasted a little longer - leaning back against the walls, struggling to stay awake. But even she fell, landing quietly and carefully even as she was dying.

Y/N felt her knees go weak and she braced herself against the wall behind her. She tried to keep her head up, to keep looking at Kaz. But it soon became impossible. Her vision blurred as her head pounded and her chest got tighter. Kaz became a black blur and Y/N fell sideways, the room spinning around her.

She didn’t feel herself hit the floor. One second she was suffocating, unable to breathe or think and the next she was standing in the middle of the Barrel, the sea spray from the harbour hitting her skin.

“Y/N!”

Kaz stood at the other end of the street, a black shadow against the white lights of the street lamps. She could his cane, the metal crow’s head glinting in the hazy light. Y/N took a single step forward and as she did so, the building next to Kaz exploded.

The force of the explosion threw Y/N backwards, the heat of the flames burning her face and her arms. She landed on the wet cobblestones, the force of the impact rippling throughout her entire body.

For a while, there was just blackness. Y/N could see nothing. She could hear nothing. Then, gradually, her senses came back. First, she tasted blood in her mouth, then the pain ripping through her body and then the sound of the flames, of the rubble still falling.

Y/N forced her eyes open, even as the smoke stung them. The street lamps had gone out around them - the fires burning within the rubble the only light available for the smoke had covered the moon. She coughed, her lungs burning, her breath getting caught in her throat.

Rubble rolled off her and onto the ground and she struggled to get up, her legs bending, refusing to hold her weight. Y/N fell against a pile of rubble and pushed herself upwards, grazing her hands against the exposed masonry.

As her mind finally caught up, the shock fading away, the panic set in.

“Kaz!” Y/N screamed, coughing as the smoke invaded her throat. “Kaz!”

Her foot tripped over something and Y/N landed on the ground again, her face barely avoiding smacking the stones. She groaned, coughing weakly, her shoulders shaking.

“Y/N.”

Y/N rolled over and she came face to face with Kaz. He looked fine - as if he hadn’t just been blown up and thrown aside. She inhaled as his bare hand looped under her arm, his fingers pressing into her skin, and he pulled her up.

“Kaz, what -”

“It’s ok,” Kaz said, his voice rough. “Just an experiment gone wrong.”

His other hand pressed gently against her side and Y/N’s body tightened at the unfamiliar yet all too familiar sensation. She leant into him, her stomach brushing against his waistcoat.

“We’re ok.”

“Kaz!”

Kaz gasped and sat up abruptly, his hands flying out in front of him. Someone caught his wrist and he fought against them, wrenching his hand free.

“Saints, Kaz, it’s just me,” Jesper said, ducking to avoid Kaz’s blind punch.

Kaz blinked and the water, and Jordie’s face looming over him, fade away, replaced by Jesper and the room they’d been locked in. Jesper looked down at him, vague concern on his face as he watched him.

“What -”

“Wylan said the butterflies are the antidote,” Jesper explained, grimacing slightly. “I had to… well.”

Kaz swallowed, his mouth dry and tasting of something not very nice. He stumbled to his feet, batting away Jesper’s offered hand, and all but slamming his cane into the ground. “Poison?”

“Yeah, some fancy sounding name,” Jesper replied. “Wylan -”

“ - knows, I’ve got it,” Kaz said.

He looked around the room, his eyes surveying the walls and the state of his crew. Kaz’s eyes widened a fraction as his gaze stopped on Inej leaning over an unconscious Y/N, a hand over her mouth.

Inej, noticing that Kaz was staring at her, lifted her head and looked back at him. Her eyes were filled with fear. “She won’t wake up. I’m trying, Kaz -”

Wylan’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Something’s holding her in the nightmare.”

“Her heartbeat is slowing,” Tolya added. He was knelt beside Inej, a hand wrapped around Y/N’s wrist, his fingers pressed against her pulse point.

“Kaz,” Jesper muttered. “It’s gotta be you.”

Kaz didn’t need Jesper to tell him that. He knew. He just didn’t want to acknowledge it. Because acknowledging Y/N’s need for him, meant acknowledging his need for her. His inability to live without her.

“Inej, here,” Wylan said, sticking his hand through the hole in the wall, “another butterfly. But she can’t have more than two otherwise it becomes poisonous in itself.”

Inej stood and took the butterfly from Wylan’s outstretched hand and turned to Kaz. She held it out to him, her eyes locking to his. “Kaz, it has to be you.”

Kaz clenched his jaw, a muscle jumping in the corner. His leather gloves creaked as he gripped the head of his cane.

“Kaz!” Jesper yelled. “If you let her die, I will kill you myself.”

The butterfly twitched pathetically in Inej’s hand. Kaz dropped his cane and limped over, gingerly taking the blue butterfly between his fingers.

“What do I do?” He asked, his voice a mere rasp.

“Put it in her mouth and force her to eat it,” Inej said, taking a step back. “Cover her mouth, pinch her nose - do whatever you have to do to get her to eat it.”

Kaz exhaled and knelt down on Y/N’s right side, wincing as his leg twinged in pain. Tolya shuffled back slightly but stayed on her other side, his hand still on her wrist.

His argument was with his inner demons. Kaz would do anything for Y/N - and he had. He’d brought her out the White Lotus, he’d taken her into the Crows, he’d saved her life in Ravka on the skiff in the Fold - he’d told her more than he’d told anyone else. His demons had let him go that far, so why wouldn’t they let him go any further?

Kaz could feel the squishy skin of the dead bodies as his leg brushed against Y/N’s. He could taste the salt water of the harbour. Jordie was still in his mind.

With one hand he prised Y/N’s mouth open, slightly startled at how easy it was. As gently as he could, he gripped it open and put the butterfly inside. Blue tinged her lips from the previous attempt. Kaz closed Y/N’s mouth and then put his hand over her lips, fighting the urge to let go and throw up.

“Come on, Y/N, please,” he whispered, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

He closed his eyes, swallowing thickly as he felt his nightmare fighting back. Kaz placed his other hand against the side of her face, his thumb trailing up and down her cheek, a feeble attempt to ground himself but to also tell Y/N that he was there.

It had been a few seconds since Kaz had put the butterfly inside her mouth, but it felt agonisingly long - and nothing was happening.

“Y/N!” Kaz yelled, shaking her shoulders.

Apparently aggression worked because Y/N inhaled sharply and sat up, her hands flying out to grip onto anything - anyone. One hand gripped onto Tolya’s arm, her nails digging into his skin. Her other gripped Kaz’s sleeve, her knuckles brushing against the skin of his inner wrist.

She coughed, chewing on the butterfly in her mouth. “Urgh, what the fuck is this,” she muttered, grimacing.

Tolya patted her on the back, laughing. “You don’t want to know.”

He ruffled her hair and stood up, stepping back and turning to talk to Inej. Everyone had conveniently found something else to do as Kaz and Y/N stared at one another. Her hand was still gripping his coat sleeve.

“Are you ok?” She asked, her voice quivering slightly.

Kaz nodded once. “Fine.”

Y/N looked at him - properly looked at him. “I’m fine, too.”

“Everyone’s lost their minds.”

Y/N snorted softly, glancing back over her shoulder as Wylan and Jesper continued to kiss one another. “I think we all did,” she said softly, turning back.

Kaz turned as well, looking at her as her own gaze caught his. They looked at one another as they walked, neither saying a word.

“Maybe…” Kaz paused, elegantly stepping over a rock, “I did see something… through the haze of the poison.”

Y/N nodded once in acknowledgment. Kaz stopped and Y/N did too, turning to face him. His eyes were full of so many different emotions and thoughts - but they were focused on her and her alone

“There are those who drown us,” Kaz said softly, “and those who pull us out.”

The early morning sun was beginning to rise behind Kaz - his black coat absorbing all the light. Y/N shifted slightly, using his head to block the sun from her eyes so that she could still see him.

“What did your toxin trip reveal to you?” Kaz asked.

Y/N bit her lip gently, shuddering slightly as her mind went back. To Kaz lying lifelessly at her side to him suddenly being in one piece and knocking her out the way of Pekka’s bullet. Nightmares turned into dreams were weird. One moment she’s screaming and the next she’s in his arms, feeling his heart beating. Y/N knew that would never happen and that simply hoping for it was dangerous.

Hoping for something that she could never have.

“Hope is dangerous,” she said quietly, resisting the temptation to avert her eyes from Kaz’s. “It clouds your judgement and makes you believe unrealistic things.”

Kaz’s face cracked slightly, his true emotion coming through for just a moment before it vanished behind the wall again. For just that second, Y/N saw the pain - the desire. But the it was gone.

“Y/N!” Nina yelled. “You coming?”

Y/N’s head turned sharply, looking over at Nina where she stood expectantly waiting with Zoya and Tolya. “Yeah,” Y/N replied. “Just coming.”

She turned back to look at Kaz but he’d walked away, heading backwards and to Inej. Y/N ignored the flash of pain that gripped at her heart and took a step forward, away from Kaz and everything she hoped for.

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x reader #six of crows #six of crows imagine #six of crows x reader #kaz brekker #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader #fic #fanfic #six of crows fic #shadow and bone fic

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stellar-skyy · 6 months

Text

DANCE WITH ME! - Platonic Freminet & reader

i. SUMMARY: Freminet dances with his sibling. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: Implied sensory overload. iii. NOTES: STRICTLY PLATONIC, found family, older sibling!reader, fluff, slight hurt/comfort(?), gn!reader, they/them pronouns used, 1.5k words. iv. A/N: I really wanted to get this out because it's the last time I have time to write for like a week, so I'm sorry if it seems rushed. ;-; This is technically a continuation of my other Freminet fic, the warmth of home, set much further in the future.

Freminet stood against the furthest wall of the ballroom, holding a glass with both hands and hoping if he huddled close enough into the corner he would become one with the wallpaper itself.

Lyney was dazzling guests on the other side of the room, a luminous smile on his lips and no shortage of charm dripping from his words. A clever magic trick here, a whisper of sweet words there, and half of the party had fallen for him. Lynette stood beside him: silent, but still carrying her own unique charm. She might not be as flashy as Lyney, but she still was one the guests fawned over, for her quiet charisma and peculiar demeanour.

Freminet wasn’t originally on the guestlist of the party, only being added at the last minute as a ‘thank you’ from the hotel owner for fixing some bits of machinery within the walls of the hotel. And even then, it took Lyney convincing him to make a polite appearance to drag him away from the sea—the place he was planning on spending that night instead.

They’d arrived as a group, being greeted warmly by the host. It took about three minutes for Lyney to be swept away by a crowd of adoring fans of his performances, Lynette following close behind as she always did, and Freminet—

Freminet was left alone.

It wasn’t as if being overlooked was a new experience for him. Lyney and Lynette thrived in the spotlight, while all Freminet did was wilt, so they were content keeping the attention away from him. It was easier that way; he could blend into the shadows and retreat back into his own mind, where there was no one to disturb him. He didn’t care about being ignored by the guests.

(He just didn’t want to be ignored by his siblings.)

Freminet clutched the glass tightly in his hands. He was still too young to drink, so when he was handed the glass of wine by a passing waiter, Lynette was quick to swoop over and swap it with a glass of water instead, before returning to her twin’s side.

The music had gotten louder, the orchestra playing a more upbeat song than the ballad that had preceded it. It was an enjoyable sound in theory, but the sheer volume of it—combined with the overlapping chatter in the room, thick smell of wine, and bustling crowds—made it sound like they were playing their violins with knives. They scraped along the strings, a metallic screeching echoing across the ballroom.

Why didn’t anyone else look bothered by the noise? Was he the only one who could hear it?

“—eminet? Freminet?”

The voice cut through the other noise in his ears, letting his attention fall directly on the concerned look of the person in front of him. He stumbled backwards slightly—when did they get so close?

“Freminet, are you okay?” (Name) repeated, a furrow in their brow. “I’ve been calling for you and you haven’t responded.”

“I-I’m okay, it’s just…” He swallowed, looking back down at the glass of water in his hands. “…very loud.”

Their eyes widened in understanding. “Do you want to me to take you somewhere quieter?”

He nodded, shrinking back into himself. Disappearing acts were more his brother’s specialty, but he wouldn’t mind being whisked away for a while. And of course, it wasn’t polite to make his sibling escort him out of the party, but the noise was so dreadful that he couldn’t even bring himself to feel self-conscious about it.

(Name) brought him through the crowd, dodging both guests and waiters as they led him past the dancefloor, up the stairs and out a set of double doors. The two emerged onto a balcony, almost being knocked back by the biting wind.

“Here. We can stay as long as you like.” They said, sliding down against the railing to sit cross-legged on the floor. Cautiously, Freminet did the same.

“It’s much quieter here.” He muttered to himself, before addressing (Name) again. “Won’t you be missing the party?”

“It’s okay,” they said easily. “I was pretty tired myself.”

The music was still audible through to the balcony, reverberating through the walls in a muted symphony. As minutes passed, it shifted in tone from joyful melodies to a slower waltz.

Through the window they could see through to the bottom floor, where Lyney still entertaining guests. As the music changed, he looked over at Lynette with a tilt of his head. She blinked back at him and nodded slightly, taking his hand as he extended it to her. Their ability to communicate without a single word was always something that puzzled Freminet, but seeing the guest’s confused reactions made him think it was just something that only made sense to the two of them.

“What are they doing?” Freminet mumbled, watching Lyney lead Lynette to the centre of the dance floor.

“They’re going to dance together.” (Name) replied, also observing the pair. Sure enough, Lyney let go of Lynette’s hand long enough to shift it to the middle of her back, clasping their other hands together and sweeping across the floor.

“They look so elegant…”

(Name) hummed in agreement.

“I think I would have liked to dance. Not in front of everyone, though.” Freminet said quietly. (Name) was quiet for a beat, before abruptly standing up.

“I guess it’s good we’re alone out here, then.”

“Huh?” He blinked at them.

“Dance with me!” They stuck out their hand, a grin across their face.

“R-Right now?” He glanced around himself, as if there were guests loitering around the corner, ready to scoff at him at any moment. “But we’re outside, and I don’t—”

“We can still hear the music from out here,” They reasoned, not moving their hand. “It’s just me. There’s no one out here to stare at you.”

“I’m not that good.” Freminet frowned, looking back at Lyney and Lynette twirling across the floor. More guests had swarmed to the dancefloor following their lead, pairs spinning and dancing across the ballroom. The dance seemed easy enough to follow, and Lynette had run him through the basic steps of the waltz ‘in case of emergency’…

Before he could think about it too hard, Freminet had laced his fingers around his siblings and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. (Name) rested their other hand in the middle of his back, while he hesitantly placed his on top of their shoulder.

In time with the music, Freminet was pulled across the balcony in a gentle rhythm. They glided round in a gradual circle, in time to the tempo of the music echoing outside.

One, two, three. One, two, three.

On the third beat, Freminet faltered, almost stepping on (Name)’s feet before he caught himself. He ducked his head in embarrassment, watching his feet carefully to make sure he didn’t accidentally stumble.

The dance was slightly awkward with their inexperience, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The music was faint in his ears, the crowd was a distant memory, and all he could pay attention to was how light he felt. This must be how Lyney and Lynette feel when they’re together; like he was free to let the weights slide off his shoulders and just simply exist, without worrying about the other’s judgement. He’d never have his other half like they had, but he had (Name) and that was good enough.

They let go of the hand across his back, stepping back to spin him around in a twirl. The movement made him slightly dizzy, but they were right there to grab onto him and make sure he didn’t fall. To think, his plans changed from diving into the ocean and not emerging until the early morning to dancing a waltz on a balcony with his sibling. The entire thing…

It was rather absurd, wasn’t it?

A giggle escaped his lips, then another and another until he could hardly breathe through the laughter. His sibling was staring at him like he’d gone mad, and with good reason. Freminet wasn’t one for emotion—he liked to think of himself as an impassive and cold, free from needless feelings. It wasn’t in his nature to smile often or laugh.

But (Name) soon fell into their own fit of giggles, as if catching a contagion. Their steps stumbled and faltered, until they’d collapsed against each other. Freminet looked up at them, an open smile twisting his features into something almost unrecognisable. There was a warmth spreading across his chest, akin to the exhilaration he got whenever he first dove into the water.

“Do you want to go back inside?” They asked, stepping back to lean against the railing. Freminet hesitated.

He could see through the glass that the twins had finished their dance, Lyney whispering to Lynette while scanning the room in a look Freminet knew to be the face he made whenever he was hiding how troubled he was. His eyes swept around the guests—looking for the two of them, it seemed. Logically, he knew he should go back inside to at least let them know he was okay, and hadn’t just vanished into the sea like he usually did. It would be the polite thing to do.

But he had his sibling with him. And the wind was a pleasant coldness against his cheeks.

“It’s peaceful out here.” He said quietly. “Let’s… stay a little bit longer.”

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

#✒️ — writing #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #platonic genshin impact x reader #platonic genshin x reader #platonic x reader #freminet x reader #genshin freminet x reader #platonic freminet x reader

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chronicowboy · 11 months

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every time we stop talking (the universe starts screaming) | 22k

"Do you have any idea what its like telling him his Buck is hurt?"

"Yes," Buck growls out, voice sharp as the knives embedded in Eddie's chest. "Yeah, Eddie, I really fucking do because I was the one that had to tell him that you'd been shot."

Eddie laughs. Its a broken sound, animalistic and rough and sounding only like a laugh echoing halfway across the galaxy. A wet laugh, edges razor sharp with bitter irony, corners like spears of desperate loneliness. He wants to grab Buck by the face and make him understand. Make him understand that the comparison of those situations is an admission of Buck's place in Christopher's life. Make him understand what Buck has never quite been able to grasp fully.

"Once," Eddie says instead. "Once. Imagine doing that five times within the last six months. Over and over and over. Watching his little face crumple like that first time when we didn't know if you'd ever wake up, listening to him begging to see you even if you've already been sent home because he doesn't quite believe that you aren't gonna disappear like his mom." Its too much, too much all at once, and Buck's mouth falls open like he hadn't been expecting it. A chink in his armour. Eddie exploits it. "He's terrified, Buck. And you just keeping throwing yourself into danger like he doesn't care about you."

"I know he cares," Buck argues hoarsely.

"Do you?" Eddie pushes, eyes dropping to the tense line of Buck's shoulders. "Do you? Because I think that if you did, if you knew just how much he cared, you wouldn't be ignoring harnesses and risking your life for a Walmart bunny."

"You know as well as I do that toys mean a lot to kids—"

"They're valuable, yes," Eddie concedes. "But not at the cost of a life, Buck." Not your life. "Does Christopher even cross your mind when you free climb down a cliff?"

"Of course he does!" Buck clenches his hands in the pillow he drags into his lap, unable to do anything else to purge his anger. "It was a little boy I was climbing down for, Eddie! You don't think I was thinking of Christopher?"

"I don't think you were thinking of him in the right way," Eddie snaps, pushing himself up from the armchair and pacing the floor in front of the coffee table.

"And how should I have been thinking of him, Eddie?" Buck's voice turns cold and emotionless in a way that sends a shudder down his spine. "In terms and conditions? In legal fine print? In the event of your death? Is that how I should have been thinking of him? As his back-up plan?"

"Back-up plan?" Eddie stares down at him incredulously, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

(OR: buck gets reckless, eddie gets angry, they talk in all the wrong ways, and the universe decides to intervene) [AKA The Angst Fic/season seven divorce era 2.0 fic]

@danielsousa @diazly @gracelcdomas @diazass @rogue205 @alyxmastershipper @pinky-promisesss @evanbucklxy @buddiearemydads @youraveragebookwhore @kenneth-black @poughkeepsies @littlechaosgremlin @krispold @scarcrossedbuck @thisyearsloveisnow @shortsighted-owl @ebdaydreamer @mellaithwen @littlebunnyz @shipping2survive @wallpaper-inside-my-heart @theroguetranslator @thebestbooksaround @i-am-a-mess24-7 @disasterpans @cowboy-buck @violet-rot @angstydiaz @livingonzenstreet @chiefcolorathletetoad

#sami rambles #okay this is an absolutely wild ride and i hope y'all enjoy it #please feel free to scream at me on here as well as ao3 #and uh yeah hope this hurts you guys as much as it hurt to write it :)#911 fic #911 fanfic #buddie fic #buddie fanfic #buck x eddie fic

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simonsdoll · 1 year

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Dating Ghost Headcanons

- Alone together he enjoys looking at you. Doesn’t really say much and lets you do the talking. Admiring you puts him at ease

- In a group/outing you can see him glancing at you every so often or just standing really close to you. He can’t lose you. He’s lost too many

- He’s a great listener. Will take in every detail and ask you questions to keep the conversation going

- You know he likes having protection in his house. He has multiple guns and knives around his house

- Likes physical touch as much as possible when at home. He follows you around like a lost puppy. He can get very clingy some days and other days he wouldn’t want you near him due to his trauma and mental health. You would always be there to reassure him afterwards

- Loves seeing you in his clothes. Once he offers you his clothes once,he would offer you his clothes every chance he gets. He would love it when your scent stained his clothing. Your scent is very comforting for him

- When returning from a mission he never sleeps. He usually sleeps during the day when he knows you’re home with him to protect him. He may not fully rest like a normal person should, but it eases the tension and relaxes him a bit.

- He likes putting his full body weight on you for fun and watches how you struggle and fall forward. He easily catches you and hugs you from behind and kisses your cheek as you smile

- Once he 100% trusts you while he sleeps he can become a VERY heavy sleeper. He can sometimes rotate like rotisserie chicken in his sleep and finds it funny when you tease him about it.

- He is always prepared for if anything happens. He will always have a plan B for everything. He knows places and knows people for certain situations

- His phone screen wallpaper is his favorite photo of you. It’s when y’all both are at a botanical garden that y’all went to as a date. It’s a picture of you smiling surrounded with flowers around you

- He is super protective of you. (puts people through HELL if they upset you in the slightest)

- He likes to know your ok at all times. He most likely wants to get to know your friends first before ever letting you out to places with them without him being there with you

- He reads you like a book. He immediately notices if you’re acting different. (upset,sad,frustrated etc) That’s what his job is, to analyze and detect emotions to ensure safety and health of others

- Likes to help you cook. He ain’t the best a cooking but hey, if you get to pamper him with little tastes and nibbles of the food being prepared he will stay there next to you while you cook

- He secretly studies you about your favorite scents. If you love a specific scent he will buy a special perfume/cologne for himself. That way you’ll offer/want to snug up to him more. He is devious

- Loves playing board games with you. He loves the tension,competition and most likely the eye contact. Which usually ends up both of y’all tired on the couch if ya know what I mean wink* wink

- When he comes back from a mission he will some days get pretty bad migraines and will be super moody and grumpy. You know to give him space on those days. When he finally gets comfy and less on edge his demeanor will change. He becomes Simon again and embraces you in hugs and kisses all day

- We saw how he drives in Las Almas and he always insists in driving when going places. You have scolded him about his driving skills but he never takes it to heart. He always claims it’s for your safety but you tell him that your rather much safer driving with a blindfold on. Y’all can’t help but laugh. He loves it when you tease him

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Check Masterlist for more

#ghost mw2 #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod ghost #ghost headcanon #ghost cod #call of duty #cod x you #cod x y/n #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #ghost headcanons #tf141 #tf 141 #modern warefare ii

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mayullla · 1 year

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Title: A new house, a new home.

Character(s): Haunted house ghost (original work / unnamed character)

Summary: You wanted to be alone away from your problems, buying an old rustic house you thought that in a sense this could be a new beginning. You didn't listen to the warning signals, you didn't release the house had a life of its own.

Warnings/tags: General yandere themes, fem!reader, near-death experience for reader (accidental), horror elements

You were not sure how it happened... but really was already to late by the time you realized.

All you wanted was time for yourself, time away from family and friends, alone and far away from the troubles and pains that plagued you. You found a home far away, old almost antique and dreary. But it was cheap, the reason why you choose to sign the papers as quickly as possible without thinking why it was so cheap thinking that you were nothing but lucky.

It had flaws sure, when you looked at it, many things were in need of repair or just replaced but you knew that you could work with it and bring the house while not new but in a better state than it once was.

So you did. You bought the house that the past owner was suspicious all too delighted to be gone from his hands. You didn't seem to care much, maybe you thought that he was just an eccentric old man and walked into your new home that needed so much renovating.

You were ready.

Ready for a new life, and a new start. That was all you wish after all… but not like this.

It was normal at first sure you thought that you heard some weird sounds occasionally, sounds of something climbing within the walls, or the doors closing by themselves or knocking on the floor. But you thought that was just some random rat or small animal crawling into the hollow grasp of the walls or the wind shutting the door.

You wanted to change the color of the walls, the wallpaper already yellowed from old age had to go. You bought a few paints and wallpaper expecting that you had enough, but it seems that you didn't have enough pain not having expected to paint the walls three times instead of two coats.

You thought you needed to go to the shop again tomorrow finding it too late to go back now.

When you saw paint cans on right by the door the next day, a little old and dusty it did freak you out a bit as you looked around. You were definitely sure you didn't buy this, you looked around the garden but nobody was there maybe this paint was already in the house but the person had forgotten to give them last time and brought them here.

You ignored the nagging feeling and stapping on your gloves and wearing a mask you started to remove the old wallpaper on the wall planning on starting the wallpaper process.

Sometimes you swore that the house moved as if the walls were breathing… Maybe it was your eyes playing tricks on you, you weren't sure maybe you hallucinating.

Sometimes you felt the room suddenly grow cold sometimes you felt cold wind pass you even when you were inside your room and no windows were opened.

Sometimes it feels like it was going through you, sometimes it grabbed you out of nowhere, it felt like ice grabbed you that often you would yelp in surprise. But as soon as you acknowledge it the cold would disappear as if it was never there to begin with.

You walked out to your porch when the delivery man arrived with your new utensil and kitchen wear that you ordered on the internet. Thanking the man you went back home, you didn't close the door properly having your hands full you were really able to with your foot only but when the door close unexpectedly, you just smiled thinking that you were able to close the door by yourself.

Taking a cutter you cut the tape to open the box, seeing the utensils you headed to the sink to wash them up. Take the knives and spatulas and such out from the box as you washed them. It was after that when you were drying them when you started to wipe the cooking knives you wondered where you put that knife holder that came in a separate mail a few days ago.

Looking around you finally found the knife holder on the top shelf, where you placed it there due to too many things littered on your table at that time. You smiled as you reached to grab it, you were just barely tall enough to reach the holder from the shelf as you dragged it towards you, you might have been a bit excited or in hurry, and not really careful when it tilted and flopped to the side.

Your eyes widen when you saw a knife, a knife that you brought with you from your old home fall off the knife holder, clattering on the shelf, and then falling towards you. You watched as the blade looked straight at you, towards your face.

You should have moved, yet you weren't able to so frozen in place as fear and panic started to choke you.

Time moved too slowly, yet you were able to do anything all but squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for it to stab you most likely in your face. You waited to feel pain spread on your face and however...

Instead of pain, instead of a sharp pain a loud metal crashing sound made you flinch. You hesitantly opened your eyes to see the knife nowhere near you and when you hesitantly looked to your side where the sound came from far away near the fridge was that same knife. Far away as if it was swatted away before it could hit your face and it instead hit the wall right beside the fridge. Unable to stand straight, you slowly fall to the floor taking deep breaths.

Unable to comprehend what happened, only to shiver when something cold touched your face but soon gone almost immediately. Something was here and you can only hope that everything was a dream.

Your eyes shone when you saw your house coming together over the past month or two, cleaning to the wallpaper and flooring, replacing the furniture that can't be fixed, and more decorations to make the place more homely.

There were moments when you found the house creepy but you thought that it was just your mind playing tricks on you. You were happy to call this place home.... maybe...

You don't know when it started probably a little after the knife incident when your blanket became heavier as if trapping you. It may have been comforting at one point but now it was now too heavy and too suffocating as if it wanted to hold you down unable to move, unable to leave.

It wasn't only that either, you wondered why the doors were heavier as if rusty when you already swapped them for band new hinges, how sometimes it was impossible to open the window as if they were locked when they weren't. How it takes longer to get from one room to another as if they were stretched yet you couldn't see the illusion..

It was strange how you could see food in the fridge when you thought that you have already eaten your leftovers and prepared to head out of the market to buy some groceries or how the mailman never rang the doorbell anymore as you would only see your mail later on the side of your door, or maybe he does…

Yet when you opened the door he wasn't there and your package on the floor right in front of you. It was weird yet you didn't know what to do, your mind was frazzled and confused if not a bit suspicious but you didn't have any proof when you took another glance… nothing was out of place.

How the clothes that used to fit you comfortably, started to tighten as if holding you. How you felt someone's hand touching you when you watched tv. How you felt something was hugging you even tho you were alone. How you started to hear louder creeks in the house or voices too static to understand. You never felt you were ever alone that someone was watching you, that they were in the same room as you.

You couldn't see them, yet you felt their eyes were everywhere. All trained on you.

It was too sudden really when everything suddenly moved when you least expected it, the click of the door locking you from the outside. How each room’s window that you let the windows open for air circulation was suddenly shut all at once with a loud bang and locked.

You tied to pry them open, force them open to get out, but nothing budged, not even the chair that you tried to carry or the vase that you wanted to carry as toss to the window would move almost as if anything that was meant to harm the house your so painstakingly repaired was not allowed to happen. As if it would not give you a way to escape this place.

And for the first time, you felt cold arms wrap around you, unlike the last that would disappear soon after these cold hands stayed.

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howdoesagrapewrites · 9 months

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𝘼𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥

Cw: sleep deprivation, hallucinations, suicide, self harm, poly!reader x lovesick!Pavitr Prabhakar x lovesick!Gayatri Singh, force feeding but not in a fetish way, vomit (only mentioned), drugging, selective/situational mutism, the hallucinations catholicism related (sorry I'm hispanic), kinda comfort at the end?

Notes: Tumblr wouldn't let me upload this?? I tried several times so I decided to just post it alone. Anyways, this happens after a variation of the events in Even as the void consumes them but the reader didn't succumb to stockholm syndrome

"Open. Up" Gayatri's voice was nothing but an echo, a disturbance in the sound waves. You can feel she has her hand on your jaw, trying to force it open. You had vomited everything that had entered your system the las three days, it's not even intentional at this point, it's like your body rejects whatever its presented. It makes sense, in a way. Your body is rejecting them, just like you do.

You stubbornly clench your jaw in a silent protest. Not that there's other way to oppose her, the second your lips are slightly spread, she'll force the food down your throat.

You recognize their patience. They have been trying to feed you for, an hour? You are tempted to leave it uncertain, as time is not something your tired brain can afford to care about.

Every escape plan has failed so far, the one time you could leave the building, you were returned by the police. And after your second attempt, you moved, they got a house instead of an apartment, you could see through windows, it was a completely unknown place, you assumed it was Mumbattan since Pavitr had "work" here, but aside from that, is hopeless.

Gayatri's hand lets go of your jaw, she's getting increasingly frustrated at your resistance. You see her holding back tears. You could go on a whole ramble about how she must feel seeing you starve, and sleep deprive yourself, a person she loves dearly, in theory. However, you don't allow yourself to be moved by their sob stories anymore, you're too tired, you're too damaged.

"Have it your way. This little stunt won't be successful, you won't die." She says as she gets up from the chair and exits the living room, have you been rested and functioning properly, you would've listened to her whispering something more. "I can't let you die"

As of late, you only sleep when you're passed out, only get nourished when they leave you no choice. You really wished there was a less painful way to go, but they made sure you couldn't hurt yourself, no knives, no razors, no pills (not even ibuprofen), they baby-proofed the entire house so you wouldn't hurt yourself with the corners of the furniture, Pavitr wanted to remove the door from your room so he could watch you 24/7, but Gayatri talked him out of it. You don't know if it's genuine respect for the little privacy you had left, or just because being exposed also meant that they were exposed as well, and you've seen how she storms out because she doesn't have the strength to keep her tears from falling, you hear their endless rantings at night, it always ends the same way: they wail about the lost time, about the things you said or did, or about the teeny tiny impression that they might have screwed up, it's all the same, they'll end up curled up in each other's embrace, conjuring excuses and hope-filled speeches about "things going back to how they were".

You see the plate laying beneath you. Full of maggots, you gag and feel the now familiar burn in your dry throat. You fight the urge to slam the plate away, this happened before, everytime they leave, food turns to maggots, they can't see it, but you know what they're really feeding you. It's better, you definitely have no appetite now.

You head to your room, now filled with the floral wallpaper you hate. When you saw it for the first time, you made your nails bleed from scratching the walls, you hated it, you yelled at them, berated them in every way you knew how. It was the only thing you'd ask for in this hellhole. If you can't have freedom, please let the yellow flowers stay with you. Eventually they got some, but not enough to cover the whole room, no longer 5,128 flowers. You said you wouldn't speak a word to them until they got you the rest, but you know that's not the real reason why you don't talk anymore.

"Don't talk, go make bread" an old man whispers

"Your eyes taste like how the color purple tastes like"

You hear a knock on the door, followed by more voices.

"You're ungrateful."

"Break the door"

"Don't answer the door"

"I really want to sleep"

"Pigeons are nice because they know things"

Voices always calm down when Michael shows up. The glow hurts your eyes, the divine light hurts the sinner.

"Father shall not leave thee, you face the calvary for those who are innocent"

Those who are innocent.

Pavitr is not innocent, you recall it now.

He gave you a spoonful of something, then he pecked your closed lips. You don't know you weren't moving, it feels like you were watching a movie about yourself.

Pavitr is not innocent, so you aren't doing this for him.

What are you doing?

Y/N collapsed on the floor, the loud thump alerted the other two people.

"They'll be better now, you can rest" Pavitr reassured to the woman next to him

"They keep trying to hurt themselves, they won't let us nurse them back to health" there was an audible tear in Gayatri Singh's voice, cracking, a little hoarse, tired.

"We can't blame them for being ill. Remember, love, in sickness and in health" Pavitr picked the body, it was malnourished, skin thin like a sheet of paper, multiple little injuries that never healed properly. He put them in the bed, freshly made, no one has slept there in a while.

"In sickness and in health" Gayatri repeated, with hope, as she tucked her lover into the bed, she made sure it was comfortable, even for someone who won't know the difference.

They kiss their slumbering lover's hands, then sit down, in well needed silence.

"We need to call the physician to see if they can put them in IV therapy or something" Gayatri said, her worries still exacerbating

"One day at a time, jaanu, one day at a time."

#atsv x reader #atsv pavitr #pavitr x reader #pavitr prabhakar #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr x gayatri #gayatri singh #gayatri x reader #spiderverse pavitr #yandere pavitr #yandere spiderverse #yandere spiderman #yandere gayatri singh #gayatri x pavitr #gayatri singh x reader

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the-halloween-jack · 6 months

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ｒｅｖｅｎａｎｔ－ｔｈｒｅｅ

PART THREE OF 'REVENANT' SERIES Damon Salvatore x Winchester!Sister!Hunter!Reader The Vampire Diaries x Supernatural Mini-Series Synopsis: Y/N Winchester was tired of living in her brothers' shadows; she needed to do something for herself for a change. When she heads to Mystic Falls, a town she was always warned to stay away from, she finds she may have taken on more than she can handle. Will she be able to eradicate the supernatural from the uncanny town? Or will she find herself tangled amongst it? WARNINGS: Descriptions of Violence. Words: 2,064k Blog Masterlist / Series Masterlist <Previous Part | Next Part >

Monsters consumed her entire world; Y/N thought of them every day and in every moment. She would watch people as she passed them on the street and wonder if they harboured any grim secrets; monsters were considerably more common than one would expect. However, there was a time when this was not the case. As a young girl, she never fully understood why her family moved from motel to motel, never finding a home to settle in.

She and her brothers would stay in the shabby rooms, watching cartoons as their father disappeared for hours, only to return covered in grime and blood. Eventually, Dean joined in on these late-night escapades and soon after, Sam. They held hushed conversations over old-looking journals Y/N was never allowed to see.

She had never known anything different; it came alongside her life of greasy diners and dingy mattresses.

However, she had always known that something was wrong. Even at a young age, she was bright enough to know that normal fathers did not teach their children how to wield knives and set traps. And they definitely did not pass their six-year-old children handguns. Her small hands and feeble arms barely able to hold on as it recoiled.

On the morning of her eleventh birthday, her father had taken her to an old friend, saying she needed a specific tattoo and that he would not ask questions. The young girl was shocked. Y/N knew this was not regular for kids her age; she supposed they were only for grownups. However, looking back, she recalled her brothers receiving them as well. Her father hushed and comforted her as she cried in his arms; the pain was like nothing she had ever experienced. When she drew back from his embrace, upon her upper left arm was now a star, enclosed by a circle of black, simple flames. Her father had told her that 'it was a small amount pain for a lifetime of protection from things that would hurt her'. She shuddered when she thought of what these 'things' might be.

However, by her next birthday, she no longer had to wonder. Y/N would never forget the day she learnt about the frightening past-times of her family. It was a turning point in her life, something she could never change, no matter how many times since that moment she wished she could.

The tires of the Impala had rolled noisily over the gravel of the dimly lit car park. The motel's neon sign flickered, casting an eerie glow across its sleek, black metal as John Winchester pulled out onto the barren street. Inside the room, the air was palpable. Y/N remembered every detail of the night perfectly. The smell of old books and gun oil mingled with the acrid tang of old manchester. She recalled how the walls seemed to sag under the weight of time, the air thick with the scent of dampness and decay. She was supposed to be alseep as her adolescent brothers, Sam and Dean, sat hunched over a precarious table, staring fixedly at a map.

Across the room, Y/N lied on her side, back turned and clutching the pillow with white-knuckled fingers. Her eyes were wide, staring unblinkingly at the peeling wallpaper of the motel, the thump of her pounding heart reaching her ears.

Y/N Winchester, the youngest of the three, had always had a lingering suspicion that her family was disparate from that of a regular household. Their late-night departures and whispered conversations had all hinted at something dark, something they deliberately withheld from her.

But as she listened to the low humming of their voices, her whole world had unravelled. Monsters, demons, and things ‘that went bump in the night’ were real. And her family hunted them.

Dean's voice broke, brueque and urgent, breaking her from her spiralling thoughts.

‘We've got a lead on a group of vampires, Sammy. Pack your bags. We’ll leave in the morning.’ Sam nodded, his gaze fixed on the map.

Y/N's breath hitched. Vampires? She had always believed they were creatures of folklore and myth, the subjects of peoples’ nightmares. But suddenly, the reality of this fact became true for her. Had she not seen her father carve out intricate stakes? And replace the bullets in his guns with wooden alternatives? She had been too young to give any of these details consideration. Though as Y/N lay in the bleak corner of the room, absorbing the information her brothers had unknowingly disclosed, she felt remarkably obtuse.

Y/N sat up and allowed her consciousness to become known to her brothers.

Her voice had shaken, fear entwined between each syllable. ‘Vampires?’

She had wanted to say more, but her words caught in her throat.

Both heads snapped up, surprise and shock corroding their features. Dean's eyes widened, and he exchanged a quick, concerned glance with Sam.

‘Y/N, you shouldn't be awake,’ Sam had said, his voice holding an edge of distress,

‘No, I need to know,’ Y/N insisted, her hands trembling. ‘What else don’t I know? Why do you do this?’

Dean sighed heavily, the weight of this fretful secret hardening his expression. The brother did not know how their father would react to their carelessness; she should not have found out like this.

‘Sit down, Y/N. We'll explain.’

As they spoke and described the monsters of this sphere in great detail, Y/N listened, perturbed yet enthralled. Her childish, insular world expanded with each revelation; the bleakness that her family fought against was far more vast than she had any right to envisage.

The creatures from her childhood nightmares were real; her father and brothers took it upon themselves to eradicate these fiends.

As days bled into nights, the Impala sped down highways and quiet country roads, carrying the Winchesters from one hunt to the next as it always had, only now, Y/N knew why. She observed and learned, engrossed in every piece of information they shared.

Her father had attempted to teach her how to wield a gun many years prior, though he eventually gave up, her negligent demeanour discouraging. But with the threat of monsters now a burden upon her shoulders, Y/N reconsidered her juvenile disinterest and learned to fire a gun. She allowed the recoil to sting her palms until callouses formed.

She memorised incantations, reciting them like a mantra to banish unwelcome spectres. Once a foreign language, the lore became familiar, etched into her memory like the back of her hand.

As weeks turned into months, which then rolled into years, Y/N’s alteration became undeniable; she was a hunter.

Her knowledge was vast; her determination and resolve were unyielding. Yet, she would always be the neonate of the Winchester clan, never a hunter in her own right.

This fact was the catalyst for her departure to Mystic Falls.

Y/N Winchester hardly believed that a single town could have such a vast history of misfortune; why did this small quaint community hold such an aptitude for catastrophe? Vampires, Witches and Werewolves were just a few of the creatures that Y/N was sure stalked the streets of Mystic Falls, and with all of the disasters claiming innocent lives, she was almost certain that the uncanny town had its fair share of ghosts as well.

Over the decades, Mystic Falls' history bore witness to many tribulations. Tragedies were not at all uncommon for the abnormal town. Yet its reputation as a charming, radiant community still proceeded it. Y/N had to admit that maybe the council was more successful than she gave it credit for, only not successful enough for her hunters’ disposition.

She found it most curious that the Lockwood family, from what she could discern, had seemingly been cursed with lycanthropy for generations, and despite this, still participated in the council’s hunting of vampires.

Y/N’s research led her to Civil Hall, which housed the incredibly grim and macabre Founder’s archives.

Beginning in the early 19th century, the Founding Families, including the Salvatores, Lockwoods, Gilberts, Forbes, and Fells, laid the foundation for the thriving community of Mystic Falls. Their historical influence reverberated through the town's architecture, traditions and the very spirit that defined it. Y/N found that each family brought a unique facet to the tapestry of Mystic Falls. They built homes, a school, and a place of worship. As the seasons passed, Mystic Falls flourished, its streets lined with elms, its gardens ablaze with vibrant blossoms and the town square; a bustling hub of commerce and camaraderie.

Amidst this idyllic setting, the Founding Families recognized the coexistence of the supernatural world alongside their own, understanding that the existence of these paranormal fiends could not be known by the greater population. So they established the Town Council, set on eradicating these monsters from their picturesque town. Under their leadership and protection, the Council became the linchpin of Mystic Falls' unique social fabric. And although they attempted to cover the town’s dark secret with reports of ordinary things, it was a delicate balance and one that required vigilance and discretion. However, the holes in their stories did not go unnoticed by the young Winchester.

She had found that in 1864 during the Civil War, Confederate Soldiers had fired on Fell’s Church, believing the establishment had been harbouring weapons. Twenty-Seven people were killed. However, this report did not sit well with Y/N; its contents held many hallmarks of the recent ‘animal killings’. To the young hunter, it sounded like a coverup.

Y/N travelled to the forsaken church nonetheless, bearing an EMF Meter and salt. She was unsurprised to find that the building held no signs of the odious spirits you would expect. Though, beneath its old withering structure, lay an abandoned tomb; Y/N shivered, wondering what had been inside it.

Y/N was sure to return to the archives in Civil Hall as there was too much to look at in one session. And upon her second trip, she uncovered something that left her feeling uneasy. In storage were artifacts from a heritage display recently held by the Founder’s Council; within said display was a registry listing the names of the guestlist for the original Founder’s event.

The document had read,

'The Founding Families of Mystic Falls, Virginia welcome you to the inaugural Founders Council Celebration on this, the twenty-fourth of September in the year Eighteen Hundred and Sixty Four.'

Her gloved fingers skimmed down the old parchment until she reached a name written in an even, ornate scrawl. She felt her heart beating in her throat,

'Damon Salvatore'

No, she thought, he couldn’t be…

She hollowly noted the name of his brother 'Stefan Salvatore' stetched onto the aged paper as well. Y/N, heart sinking, recalled her initial suspicion of Damon on the night they met; she had felt saddened by the idea of him being a monster. Though, she had quickly ridiculed these ideas as she learnt of his surname. Y/N dejectedly reminisced Caroline’s warnings, and suddenly, she heard them in a new light.

'Y/N, he’s bad news; how many times do I have to tell you before the message sinks in?'

Y/N had thought Caroline’s dislike for Damon was due to some trivial gossip. Though was it possible her admonitions hinted at something much more sinister?

She shook her head as if trying to banish unwelcome thoughts; once again, she concluded that she must be overreacting. He hailed from a Founding Family; they did not take matters of the supernatural lightly. And besides, she had heard him talk of the animal killings with the sheriff herself. He could not be a vampire.

Perhaps these people on the registry had been namesakes for the brothers? Surely, in a community that valued its heritage so much, it would not be unusual to be named for your late ancestors? And as a hunter, how could her instincts be so wrong? So out of touch?

Y/N Winchester had not yet fallen in love with the blue-eyed man, though with each conversation and interaction, Y/N knew falling in love would be as easy as the phrase proposed; as effortless as falling down.

No, she thought, this time more confident, he couldn’t be.

TAG LIST: @venomsvl

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strange-august · 1 year

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Tag Yourself as Aesthetics I resonate with

Changelingcore: Broken insect wings, wildflower meadows, catching tadpoles, lingering mist after it rains, wet shoes from the damp grass, the feeling of moss under your hands, collection of strange trinkets and objects, taking your stuffed animals on adventures, doodling on your clothes, busy hands, wading knee deep into a lake, screaming into the air to ease frustration, organizing and reorganizing your treasures, bird calls, animal howls, digging in the mud, chewing on your lip until it bleeds, bruises and scrapes, the urge to live in the woods and never return to regular society, knotted hair, forest shrines, putting flower blossoms in your hair, flooded swampy areas, jumping from short cliffs

Suburban Gothic: Hot muggy air sticking to your skin, the buzz of florescent lights, flickering street lights, budget popsicles, late night drug store visits, muffled arguments, an old clock ticking, guady wallpaper, gossamer curtains, dusty cotton sheets, faded quilts, dog barkings, milkshakes in an empty diner, broken windows and graffiti, abandoned train tracks, 24/7 laundromats, rusty swingsets, shadowy silhouettes, semi-abandoned malls, sounds of far off traffic and train horns, driving around at night while soft music plays on the radio, tv static, junk yards and pick-n-pulls, holding hands with a stranger, urban legends, varsity jackets, broken glass on the road, crumbling buildings, local television channels

Cuddle Party: Excited giggles and hushed whispers, condensation on drinkware, running through an empty field hollering and whooping in the dead of night, sitting on the porch in rocking chairs, drunken "I love you"s, old cartoons, classic disney movies, five dollar pizza and breadsticks, singing out loud in the car, finding new places to explore, county fairs and arcade visits, eating fair food and screaming your lungs out on rides, trying to earn as many tickets at the arcade and still winning cheap prizes, being the last one to fall asleep, casually sleeping all together in the same bed, holding hands in crowds, if one of us isn't having a good time none of us are, wondering how long these days will last

Cryptid Academia: Listening to video essays while sketching cryptids, exploring abandoned buildings (legally and illegally), pocket knives, blackout curtains, newspaper clippings, viewing the night sky through a telescope, visiting natural history or science museums, old typewriters, info dumping conspiracy theories on friends, making plans to investigate that never come to fruition, tearing yet another hole into your clothes climbing over fences, shoddily patched up clothes, keychains and aluminum pins, novelty socks, analog watches, Buzzfeed Unsolved, cryptid podcasts, sprint training so you can outrun whatever is chasing you, rubiks cubes, sore fingers from mending, thrift shopping, essays only about cryptids

Desertwave: Billowing winds, sandstorms, wind chimes and suncatchers, succulents in handmade clay pots, aloe vera plants on the kitchen windowsill, the distant howl of a coyote, faded winnebagos, the soft hiss of patio misters, campsites and trailer parks, large rock formations covered in graffiti, picking up trash, the crackle of a bonfire, cacti and joshua trees in the backyard, never getting the sand completely out of your shoes, dusty clothes, laying in a hammock watching the stars, water balloon fights, hot springs, mexican ice cream bars, rocky desert mountains, plots of sand and plants that stretch on as far as the eye can see

#tag yourself #types of people #aesthetic #changelingcore #suburban gothic #desertwave #cuddle party #cryptid academia #mine #augies-posts

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crimson0lake · 1 month

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BSD: One Time Sanity

Prologue: The start of a new era

Warnings: blood, guns, wounds, corpses, knives, alcohol, underage drinking, gangs, mafias, bullets, swears

A.n: sorry that it took a while but here's the prologue!

Word count: 1.771

"Those self inflicted 'mafıas' started to get on my nerves"

The raven haired boy spoke with a stern hush while taking another sip from his glass of liquor in his hands.

The bullets and blood had decorating the night city.

Once a silent and calm city had filled with groups of people who are fighting to someone very silly like to get the one rule the city after the biggest 'mafia's fall.

Night breeze blowing between the buildings and alleys. The Velvet Night in Yokohama. There was a mysterious air around the city..

A bar, where the two boys are sitting, hidden from sight but still reachable for who's looking for it. Hiding a deep secret and a deep bond in its walls. Holding many memories, hopes and dreams more than anyone could imagine.

"You are talking like we can do something about it now. There's more then 50 gangs across the country"

Other boy replied as he spins the liquor in the glass he holds.

"I don't care about that part but don't you think they are getting to comfortable and confident, Hirotsu?"

Raven haired boy spoke with a smirk as his friend sighed.

"That's another thing. They are indeed getting closer but I rather drink a whole bottle of liquor than go and deal with those egoist yet stupid people."

"I have nothing against your words but I still can't forget how you get rejected by that girl 3 days ago~"

"HEY!! You said you would stop, bastard!"

"How can I stop?? It was soo funny!"

Raven haired boy laughs and holds his stomach before speaking in a more feminine tone to mock Hirotsu who was red with embarrassed and irritated with his friend.

" 'I don't like black haired boys and you are quite ugly' HHAHAAHAH, the look on your face was priceless!!"

Black haired boy stands up before smacking his friend's head angrily.

"Haha! Weren't you the one who got rejected by total of 25 girls last week?"

"Why did you count all of that????"

The two boys conversation cut off with a sigh from the young adult bartender as he cleaned the glass in his hands with a towel.

The small bar was smell like all kinds of alcohol. Clean and new wallpapers were peeling off due to moisture.

"You two acting like you weren't just cornered by a gang just hours ago. I sometimes wonder why can't you two stay in your seats at least once, I'm tired of saving your ass'.."

"What we can say, Lupin? We need to be active to hold the title of 'stray dogs'~" Hirotsu shrugged as he drink the glass of liquor left in his glass in one go.

By the bartender man sigh and rub his temples, raven haired boy chuckled before turning to his friends. "It's not like we can possibly do something, right Lewis?"

"Yes, like two young and innocent boys like us can go against those delinquents.." Lewis confirm his friends statement before he pour more liquor in his glass with a small dark smirk.

Both of the young boys chuckled to themselves while the bartender was nervous till soon the realisation hit him.

"No! My answer is no and neither you guys are going to do what you are thinking! I can figure it out what you guys thinking by your expressions after all these years!!"

"Ah, don't be a spoilsport now! It would be fun!"

"Dancing with death isn't fun! You guys going to be in more chaos than you are already in!"

"Double trouble means double black! That's why we are called double black in the first place!!"

"That's just a title given you two by some coward, who lived enough to tell his story! What would happen if the goverment had heard about it then? They would had you two's heads!!"

"If they fear us, why this is our fault?! We haven't done anything to them yet! That doesn't make sense!!"

"It doesn't need to make sense!! They are scared of power and you two have too much than enough of that kind of power already!"

Lewis chuckled amusedly before holding his glass up and spinning the liquor in it a bit while he listen the two males argue. "In this topic, Lupin is right. Even though we are powerful, we are still naive and young."

The pitch black haired boy turned to his friend with confusion, flustration, and a small bit of betrayal while the bartender sigh and nod with a small hint of proudness and small relief, thinking the two boys finally give up on that dream.

"... But..."

The two of them pause as the raven haired boy turned to them with a innocent looking faux smile. "It's the era of gangs. We may increase our safety rate if we were in a gang. A powerful one"

"That could work out, but what if someone learns about you two's abilities? They would find you even in underground! Do you two forget what they done to that immortal?" Lupin said as he put his hands down on the counter with a distress.

"Then Wonderland can hide us."

"What if they killed one of you?!"

"But you won't let them, Lupin"

"You can't see every possiblity, Lewis! There would be alwasy a chance of a possiblity you never seen to come true!"

"In that scenario that's where I'm joining" Hirotsu add with a chuckle as the two boys look at each other and laugh under their breath of how much their friend was stressing over some thing this small.

They see this as a game, a winning game. While Lupin was distressing and anxious for the two careless boys... and his job.

Hirotsu rises his glass in air, breaking the silence with clearing his throat. "Then lets rise our drinks for the Port Harbor Gang!"

Raven haired boy turns around while holding his laugh back barely. "I could have take you serious if it wasn't for the flower patels on your hair-"

"Yeah, yeah.. Wait- FLOWER WHATS??"

Raven haired boy coudn't hold back his laughter more and laughed mockingly to his friend's attempt of cleaning the flower patels on his head.. 'Hirotsu would be very mad when he find out I put more in his hat and in his clothes..' Lewis think while still laughing his ass off. Even small tears had start to form corner of his eyes from how hard he was laughing.

"Lewis, YOU LITTLE-!"

Lupin take a deep breath while the two boys mess with each other. 'Why do I feel this is going to end up with blood again?' he thought while putting the last glass cup he just finished cleaning.

--------------------------------------------

'So this is the place where boss wanted me to meet with those important men' gravity manipulator thought as he entered the empty valley.

The grass was vey short and there wasn't any trees within the next few km.

Chuuya thought as he start to walk towards a big plane which seemed to landed on the valley not so long ago. The short grass under the plane slowly leaned towards ground with the weight on it. 'They seem to be already here, huh. Well with the information given to me, the documents they have is pretty secret. In that case, if we take the danger and risk they take by coming to Yokohama, this kinds of missions that are hidden from other executives are pretty understandable'

He stopped in front of the stairs and started to slowly walk up 'Still, it's pretty quiet...'

Chuuya stopped in front of the plane's door before taking a deep breath and knocking two times then after a second later three times more before stepping a few steps back.

Yet no sound or movement comes from the door. Chuuya knocks two times then three times more before taking a few steps back again. 'They should have get the code by now' he thought.

He waited a few minutes more before activating his ability and opening the door of the plane himself.

"Hello, I'm Nakahara Chuuya. I'm in the position who would take you to the Port Mafia ba-... What the fuck-.."

His words stuck in his throat upon seeing the sight in front of him. Blood everywhere, the wines and alcohols that are taken out to drink was broken. Some of the glass pieces stuck on the corpses, some of them on walls, floors, and the luxurious seats.

Bodies of the men and their body guardians were laying there and there. Some of their throats broken and ripped apart while some of them had food and cutting knifes stabbed in their body multiple times.

Some of their chins broken, gun shot wounds open and dripping blood from the open holes the bullets caused.

Chuuya take a deep breath before approaching the bodies the investigate and check if there was anything left he didn't see.

Chuuya was disgusted and disturbed slightly from inside due the state of corpses but the thing thats make Chuuya more disturbed was that there was a drawing on the empty wall of the plane where a painting was stayed not so long ago.

It was almost the same as the scars appear on his body the time he uses corrouption.

The sight of the drawing was making his breath stuck in his throat and awakening the memories he doesn't want to remember. He tried to take deep breaths but his breath seemed to turned against him.

'Someone knew...' he thought as he takes a step back instinctively. He felt like he was in a nightmare from long time ago that he didn't remembered.

The words written with a weird liquid didn't chance the fact it was almost calling for him, or the thing inside him..

He got out of the plane to get some air and called an investigation team, only to see there were no signals here. He had no choice but to run down the path he used to come up here.

Chuuya cursed under his breath while rushing towards the path he used to come to the valley. The sentence written on the wall was still lingering in his mind as he ran down the woods to find a signal. In deep down he was still nervous about the drawing and the words written there but now feeling a bit relieved that he was away from that memory.

"Hide the secrets, hide the lies, don't let them see

Real play is now starting, prepare the weapons, soldiers

Real ruler is returning, Lets see how much more you can hide"